Antiheroine (Revised)
by vkerinav
Summary: A revision of the original Antiheroine, expanded and polished. Events of ME1. Assigned the pursuit of Saren, radicalized spacer/war heroine Kara Shepard goes rogue-but not like you think- attempting to solve questions of loyalty and justice in her own way.
1. Revelations

**ANTIHEROINE**

CHAPTER ONE  
_Revelations_

Kara Shepard watched the _Normandy_'s pilot as he sat at the ship's helm. His eyes scanned the displays, and his fingers danced over the controls. The small viewports at the front of the ship were closed, a defense against the radiation encountered during FTL travel. Their velocity would have distorted the starscape beyond the human ability to correct, and even processed navigational data was limited. According to the specifications, the ship was capable of covering just over twenty light-years per day, above average even for a military ship, and the estimates were always on the low side.

"… what do you think is going on, Commander?" The pilot finished, turning his head to check that she still stood there. His name was Jeffrey Moreau, Lieutenant, a competent pilot if the casual skill he projected confirmed the notes of praise attached to his service record.

Kara realized belatedly that he was addressing her. Beside him Kaidan Alenko, a marine lieutenant just a few years older than her, also watched her curiously. She sighed inwardly. The _Normandy_ was fresh out of the shipyard, its crew still strangers to the ship and each other. They would be curious about her even if she were not a declared and decorated heroine, savior of Elysium. The only faces she recognized were amongst the marines. "A shakedown cruise," she answered, keeping her voice flat. The oddities could all be explained away, though collectively they suggested something more important than a test flight. After all, testing a prototype stealth frigate required that someone be looking for them.

"See, Joker. If something were going on, the commander would know about it," Alenko replied.

Not likely. Keeping people in the dark was a time-honored military tradition, one that annoyed her more the higher her rank climbed. Her transfer to the _Normandy_ had come without much warning, and against the subdued protests of Captain Sadashiv of the _SSV_ _Anqing_, on which she had served as first officer. She knew he had put her in for the promotion to full commander, a small piece of cover that didn't dull her suspicions in the slightest.

"She wouldn't be able to talk about it," Moreau noted. He seemed about to continue when the captain interrupted over the internal comm system.

"_Joker, send Commander Shepard to the briefing room._"

Captain David Anderson's presence was another clue. One of the most decorated officers in the fleet, a shipload of admirals made more sense for an otherwise diplomatic mission, and many of them would have fought for the privilege.

"You got that, Commander?" Moreau asked, but Kara had already turned away, walking quickly down the length of the command deck. The forward stations were dedicated to ship operations and engineering status, lining the walls before the deck opened out into a turian-style CIC, dominated by the central captain's station, which overlooked the holographic tactical display, as well as navigation and weapons stations, and the first officer's post. The door to the briefing room exited aft, near the short stairway to the crew deck. If this were more than a shakedown cruise, it was time they explained just what they expected of her.

The _Normandy_'s briefing room was small, like everything else aboard ship, which was even more cramped than the last frigate she'd served on. Most of interior space was taken up by the new stealth systems, and an oversized element zero—also known as 'eezo'—core. Eezo cores made FTL travel possible, but the _Normandy_'s 'Tantalus' core was also capable of generating gravity wells, which the ship could fall into, providing low-emissions propulsion. A circle of chairs filled most of the room, and a large holographic display dominated the far wall, currently showing the blue-green sphere that was their destination, the colony world of Eden Prime. The most curious aspect of the mission, and probably the key to deciphering the whole affair, sat in one of the far chairs, studying a data pad. A male turian, Nihlus Kryik's semi-metallic skin reflected the dim light in a distinctly non-human manner, and without looking up he spoke. "Commander Shepard. I was hoping to speak with you alone." His voice had the typically resonant quality of his species and gender, but lacked the mechanical inflections of VI translation. His words were in English, accented but clear. Nihlus' presence was superficially explainable as a representative of the Turian Hierarchy, which had cooperated with the human Systems Alliance in designing and building the _Normandy_. They would certainly wish to observe it in flight, particularly the effectiveness of its stealth systems. She had seen him on the bridge many times, but he never stopped to talk her with, beyond politely trading formalities.

In their place, the Systems Alliance would have sent an admiral, with an aide or two. The turians had sent an elite agent, a Spectre, who answered not to the Hierarchy, but to the multi-species Citadel Council. That suggested a wider interest than a simple field assessment of a prototype; something that involved the Council itself, at the very least.

"Sir?"

He eyed her curiously, as though he expected her to say more. She met his gaze, firmly but silently. "I'm sure you've guessed that I'm not here solely to observe the _Normandy_ in action. I've been following your career with interest since that bloody slaughter on Elysium. Your acceptance speech for the Star of Terra was a highlight of the affair."

That was a surprise. At the time, she had expected it to get her discharged, only to find that the Alliance had quietly distributed a bland and unexceptional replacement, read by a conventionally attractive actress, who looked nothing like the officer she portrayed. "Thank you. How did you come across the original?"

"There are benefits to being a Spectre," the turian said. "Benefits I think you're ready to share."

Her? She almost laughed. The Alliance had frantically been pushing for more power, more authority in galactic affairs since the end of the First Contact War. What they needed was patience, for humanity to have a chance to integrate. Constant pressure would only result in resentment and mistrust.

Aside from that, she had no desire for the kind of life the role would entail. After ten years with the Alliance, she still did not think of herself as a soldier. She liked to immerse herself in alien cultures, played the violin, and wrote on occasion. She did not have as much time for those things as she might have wished, but they were her, not the instruments of death she more frequently wielded, or her uniform and the occasional medals.

"No offense, but Spectres are dangerous, with too much power and not enough oversight. I don't want the job, and I don't want to be the means by which humanity forces itself on the galaxy."

Nihlus' expression was one more of amusement than surprise. If he had studied her as closely as he implied, it made sense that he could guess her reaction. "Take some time to think about it, Commander. We have a mission-"

The door slid open, cutting him off. In walked Anderson, a stern, thick bodied former marine, no longer as fit as used to be since trading in his combat armor for a captain's bars. A stern, commanding expression covered her square, brown face. "Shepard. Has Spectre Kryik briefed you yet?"

"No, sir."

"We've been discussing the Spectres," Nihlus said, when she failed to volunteer more information. If the turian was there to recruit her, then surely he had already informed the Captain.

Anderson nodded, walking past them as he stared at the main display. "We're approaching Eden Prime," he said, turning back to them, "so that'll have to wait. Commander, as you may have heard, our archeologists uncovered prothean ruins near the colony, but they never turned up anything of value. Until now."

That Eden Prime's rich soil concealed ruins of the extinct civilization was not a secret; Kara had learned about their early finds in an Alliance classroom, nearly fifteen years ago. The protheans were not a topic she had studied much since, but she was well aware that Council law required that all artifacts be turned over to the multi-species Institute for Prothean Studies.

"A week ago," the captain continued, "a team dug up a prothean beacon. They say it's functional. Our mission is to retrieve it."

Kara did not know what the beacon's function was, but the discovery had certainly been classified, and the details had almost certainly been leaked. There were any number of groups that might attempt the violent recovery of the device, for sale or study. "I'll assemble my team," she sighed.

* * *

Kara sighed. She knew, as any experienced officer did, that it was possible to make no mistakes and still lose people. Like any good officer, that didn't make it hurt any less, as she stared down at the body of Corporal Adam Jenkins. His life had been her responsibility, and she'd failed him, mistake or no. What gave her the right to order anyone to their deaths? What had he been thinking, to accept her authority without question? They were questions she'd struggled with since Elysium, and she hadn't found a proper answer. She was in command, and that had to suffice.

"Jenkins was from here. He said it was dull."

Kara ignored Kaidan. As a model colony, on the edge of Alliance space, mainly agrarian and still small, dull was likely an apt description of Eden Prime. Except, not today. She wondered if Jenkins still had family still lived there, and if they were still alive. A part of her hoped not; she didn't want to see any more parents crying over the body of their child. She looked up, meeting Kaidan's dark eyes. "I need you focused, Lieutenant." Or was it her, who needed focus? From what Anderson had told her, they'd come upon a world under attack by unknown forces, and any delay would cost the lives of more colonists. The older officer frowned, expecting more, some ongoing respect for the dead. It was just a body to her, with no departed spirit looking down to judge how she treated it. "We can come back for him later."

"Yes, sir," Kaidan said, turning his gaze from the corpse to the scorched vista, visible from their position on sheltered hillside. "He's an Anglican, I think. He'd want to be buried here."

"Later, Kaidan," Kara repeated. Burning farmland had been a gratuitous act, unnecessary for a mere raid. There was some deeper hostility behind it that hinted at the batarians—their smoldering conflict with the Alliance had made them the obvious culprits, but the scout drones that had killed Jenkins were not of their make. Would the benefits of capturing the beacon outweigh the costs of starting a war? She needed more information. "We've got to secure that beacon. We'll try to get some idea whats happening here, along the way, so give me some space, and keep your eyes open."

Kara reactivated her HUD, and moved out in the direction of the marker. She had uploaded topographical maps of the region onto her omnitool before leaving the _Normandy_, along with the last known position of the beacon. It was about half a kilometer ahead, and a hundred meters down into the valley.

She followed a dry gully further up the hill, towards the ridge line, into a copse of trees, their thick canopies turning the dust-choked day into gloomy twilight. The whine of an exhaust fan, loud in the silence of the glade, forced her off the path and into the dense undergrowth, just in time to see another drone float past, and another. Running long-practiced exercises through her mind, like the memorized steps of a dance, she generated a gravity well in front of the machines, whipping the first off course, its new trajectory leading it straight into a tree.

Taking advantage of its distraction, Kaidan helpfully began to fire on the second, using his biotics to penetrate its barriers and open a path for his bullets. That she didn't recognize them as batarian wasn't proof of anything, but they weren't a design of any species she was familiar with. Either a new actor had taken to the field, or they were a deliberate attempt at concealment. Both possibilities reenforced her desire for more information.

"Commander, do you hear shouting?"

Raising her gaze from the broken drones to her squad mate, Kara held her breath and listened. Yes, she did, and though the sound was too faint to make out any words, its desperation was more obvious. A witness? Gesturing that Kaidan should follow her more closely, she moved out as rapidly as she dared, continuing to follow the gully until it cleared the trees.

Out in the open again, the terrain leveled out, with greenish-brown native grasses, knee high, covering the ground. The ridge line, on their left, peaked some fifty meters above. The voice had fallen silent, but a possible source, a female marine, tumbled out from behind a spur of rock. She scrambled desperately for cover as bullet-shards impacted the bare rock beneath her, sendings splinters of stone flying.

Kara dropped down into the grass, knowing Kaidan would do the same. The marine had been to distracted to notice her, and had found shelter from her attackers behind a boulder.

A moment later, another figure appeared from behind the spur. It was too slim to be either a batarian or human in armor, and its 'face' was a single glowing light. Some sort of unknown combat platform, perhaps an experimental line, like the drones? There would be time for a closer look after it was disable, she decided, focusing her biotics into a disruption field that opened a small hole in its barriers. Taking careful aim, she fired, her shots slipping through the hole and impacting its armor.

As the first robot collapsed with a sputtering mechanical wail, a second came into view, followed closely by a third. The soldier rose, firing on them with an incoherent, angry shout. Kaidan knocked one off its feet with a biotic pulse, and they all focused their fire on the other. Its barriers were strong enough to resist for about eight seconds, better than any batarian tech she was aware of, before finally collapsing. They finished off the remaining target in the same manner.

The soldier, free of enemies at last, scrambled to her feet, throwing a relived salute. Her rank stripes on her armored arms indicated a petty officer, a gunnery chief, which would have put her in charge of a squad of four. "Thanks for the assist, sir."

"Kara Shepard," Kara said, as she approached. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

The marine shook her head, her expression worn and haunted. "We were finishing up our patrol when they hit us, sir. We didn't have any warning, and they cut through my squad like we were raw recruits. Siyavash said they're geth, but…"

That was unlikely, and troubling if true. The geth hadn't been seen beyond the Perseus Veil, on the far side of the galaxy, since they rebelled against their quarian creators almost three hundred years ago, and had aggressively defended their corner of space, since then. Not strictly robots, they were actually segments of networked code, capable of interacting in a way that had gradually increased their intelligence as their mobile platforms became more common, until they finally achieved sentience.

Actually, since she had the idea in her head, she could see the quarian influence on the robot's design in their distinct leg structure, and the curve of their heads. She had refused to pass judgement on the geth for their rebellion, but if they were intent on a new anti-organic campaign, she might have to reconsider. In support of that troubling thought, logistical realities demanded that their forces had been closer than the Veil, to have arrived on Eden Prime so soon after the beacon was uncovered.

None of it changed the mission, though. Shaking her head, Kara turned her attention to the chief. "The rest of your squad?"

"Dead, sir. The Geth put them up on these weird spikes. I didn't know what to do, I just ran."

"What's your name?"

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, sir." Angry brown eyes stared out from beneath her combat helmet.

"You stayed alive, Ash. That's important. You aren't much good to anyone dead," she smiled encouragingly, knowing it was small consolation. She'd seen friends die around her, and held her ground, and still felt like she hadn't done enough. "You'd better come with us."

Williams nodded. "Yes, sir." Another stranger willing to die at her command.

"We're here to recover a prothean artifact," Kara said, "but we'll help the colony if we can. Kaidan, you'll take up the rear."

* * *

"The artifact was here, Commander," Ashley said, gesturing towards a corner of the dig site. The archeological team had uncovered a portion of some sort of structure, most of it still buried beneath fifty thousand years of dirt. "We were told they had plans to move it, but I don't know where."

"We need to find out," Kara said. If it was them, and not the geth. "Is there a shelter, or somewhere else the team might have gone when the attack started?"

"They were expecting retrieval, weren't they? Then they would have moved the artifact closer to the spaceport," Alenko suggested.

"True," Kara said, looking around. The area was quite sheltered, and her map did not indicate any nearby landing site for a craft of the _Normandy_'s size. The decision to move the beacon was sound, but she wondered why news of it had not reached the Alliance. A simple communications breakdown? "Any other suggestions, Ash?"

The marine shook her head. "Major Yon didn't tell us anything. Sorry, sir."

"Very well," Kara decided. "We head for the spaceport. You know your way around, Ash, so you'll take point."

"Sir," Ashley saluted; Kara nodded in response. "This way."

They made their way up a wide dirt path that snaked lazily up the ridge, passing several bodies as they wound upward, both civilians and soldiers. She assumed that the geth had dropped units as near to the dig site as possible, only making their way towards the spaceport when they found the beacon missing.

Ashley paused when they reached the top, gasping in horror. "Sir," she said, raising her arm.

Kara followed the gesture, her eyes landing on three of the spikes Ashley had described earlier, concealed from below in a small hollow. The figures which hung from them, pierced through the stomach, were no longer human, but altered by some sort of technology, for an uncertain purpose. One, at least, had bits of Alliance armor half-absorbed into its grey skin.

"Hey, look at that," Alenko shouted, distracting her from her contemplation. A dark mass lingered over the colony, beginning to accelerate rapidly upwards. A ship? It seemed about cruiser size, with an unfamiliar configuration. It could only be Geth.

"Uh, Commander? Those bodies are moving," Williams said, her voice weak with fear and horror. Twitching, as the spikes slowly withdrew into their round bases.

How many cheap horror films were there, where, through experimental nanotech, disease, or just because, the protagonists had to fight their way through hordes of undead, sometimes wearing the familiar faces of former comrades. She hated the genre. They mimicked the senselessness and horror of real violence, and normalized it, and demeaned it. If that was not enough reason for her dislike, they were often lacking much of a story, had weak plots, and nothing at all worth saying. The corpses climbed awkwardly to their feet, their faces, twisted into unpleasant caricatures of human features, were, perhaps, still recognizable. They screamed, an attempted at intimidation she guessed, and charged.

Where did one shoot an animated corpse? She lowered her aim, firing several rounds into the lead creature's leg. It toppled forward, tried to stand, collapsed back into the dirt, and began to crawl towards her. She opened fire again, stopping only when it ceased twitching, her pistol just short of overheating.

Alenko had trapped a second corpse in a biotic field, from which it struggled to escaped.

"Alenko," she said, just to get his attention. Controlling complex biotics was like performing a dance, learned over many hours of practice, but the abilities themselves were like having arms; they were either there, and one used them, or they were not. She generated a counter-force, and between them they tore the creature in half; it wailed angrily, waving its arms at them as though sheer effort might bridge the gap between them, and went limp. Thankfully, it lacked any real viscera to spill, no longer any more human than the Geth themselves.

Williams' weapon-Kara had been aware of its firing-hissed, and bleeped in rebellion. Kara turned to check on her-the rifle's status light was blinking red, and she could feel the heat radiating from its exposed coils. The last corpse-creature was shattered, nearly torn apart by the number of shards that had pierced it.

"You okay, Ash?" Kara asked, placing her hand on the woman's armored shoulder.

The soldier straightened, letting the rifle fall to her side. "Yes, sir."

Kara knew it was a lie. The creature had been Williams' friends and colleagues, or at least might have been, as they were transformed beyond recognition. They were not just dead, but desecrated.

"Let's go, sir," Williams said, her voice, like her expression, carefully controlled. Professional. She pulled the overheated thermal clip from her rifle, replacing it with a fresh one. Kara noted that it was her last.

"Lead on,," Kara told her.

Smoke rose in plumes from the colony below, thick and dark, until it found the wind and dispersed.

* * *

The journey down to the colony passed without further resistance from the geth, though they fended off two more groups of animated corpses. Kaidan called them husks, a name which she found fitting. They covered ground quickly, and attacked with clumsy swings of their arms, their fingers transformed into sharp-edged claws, but ultimately posed little threat to an alert squad, at least in limited numbers. Had the geth transformed more of the numerous dead soldiers they passed on their way, they might have needed an army to clear the colony.

They approached the colony center through a tram station, the area stacked with crates of what Ashley identified as supplies for the outlying farms. She claimed that they tram would take them to the spaceport. Kara allowed her to continue to lead them, until, rounding a crate, she paused in shock. "What's a dead, uh… turian doing here?"

"A turian?" Kaidan asked. "Nihlus?"

True, he hadn't broken comm silence since they parted ways at the drop site, but Kara suspected he could handle himself. She was well aware that no level of skill was proof against death, and she worried that the biotic marine might be right. She already feared that the geth had departed with the beacon, marking the mission as a failure; a dead Spectre would turn it into a disaster.

Unfortunately, he was right, Kara discovered. Nilhus lay face-down in a pool of dark blue blood. She checked him over briefly. "He was shot in the back of the head. I think the weapon was a pistol," she sighed.

Kaidan muttered a curse under his breath. "That doesn't sound like a combat wound, and the geth don't use pistols. At least, not that I've seen."

"Who is this, anyway?" Ashley asked, her attention focused on the lower platform of the station, where a freight tram waited.

"Nihlus," Kaidan said. "A Council Spectre."

From behind one of the nearby crates, Kara heard a sharp intake of breath. "Whoever you are," she said, "you can come out. We're not going to hurt you."

A balding head appeared over of the stacks, followed by wide, frightened eyes. "You sure?"

Kara holstered her pistol. "Did you see who did this?"

The heavyset man, dressed in dirty coveralls walked out into the open, rubbing his head. "Yeah. It was the other turian. They seemed to know each other. This one called him Saren."

"And?"

"He let down his guard. Saren shot him, and left. Back to the spaceport, I think."

The name was unfamiliar, but Nihlus had clearly accepted Saren's presence. Someone in a position to know about the beacon, and who could move about freely despite the geth presence. The evidence seemed to hint at another spectre, but their names and numbers were classified, so that only the Council could confirm her suspicions. A rogue spectre, considering what he'd done.

So was Saren in charge of the geth, or just taking advantage of the chaos? How had he enlisted their support? It seemed as though all she had was more questions. She knelt by the eturi's corpse and checked his omnitool, hoping for some useful information.

"Just what were you doing back there, anyway?" Ashley demanded, scowling at their informant.

"I was, ah, takin' a break when those robots attacked. Didn't fancy my chances against them."

"Sleeping, you mean," Ash grunted. "Lazy bastard."

"Lay off, chief," Kaidan said swiftly. "Hiding is the only thing that kept him alive."

And without him, all they'd have was a dead spectre and no answers. Kara sighed, standing. Not that they had answers. "Nihlus' suit recordings were erased. Not by you?" she added, turning her attention to the laborer.

"No!" he asserted quickly. Too quickly, she decided, as his gaze flitted anxiously between them. He should have relaxed a little by now, unless something else was putting him on edge. Something he was hiding. "Saren did something to his armor. I didn't know what."

Without actual evidence, they had nothing on Saren but the testimony of one scared dockworker, even if he had no reason to lie. That would count towards nothing more than reasonable suspicion. "We'll send a team to retrieve the body, once we've secured the colony. Don't touch it."

"No, ma'am," the dockworker said.

"You know anything about the prothean beacon they found in the ruins?" Kaidan asked the man. "Like where they might have transferred it?"

"Nah. I bet they stashed it in a warehouse up at the port, but they don't tell us nothing 'bout that. Rumor says it classified. Big find and all that… wait, you think that's what the torch-heads are after?"

Kara sighed. If the geth were having as much difficulty finding out locating the beacon as she was, then she saw a slim chance that she could still beat them to it. "Let's get moving."

* * *

Kara had to supplement her suit's built-in kinetic barriers with her biotics, as the tram closed in on its platform. It was a significant expense of energy, but the car provided no shelter, and the tracks were surrounded by four prefab storage buildings, which the geth used as vantage points from which to shoot. With Kaidan's help, she was able to hold them off, but they were simply too distant to counterattack.

As soon as they could disembark, Kara leapt onto the platform, pausing to drag Kaidan after her. Long-familiar pain shadowed his face, a side effect of the Alliance's L2-class biotic implant imbedded in his brain. Others with the same device had suffered debilitating migraines, and even brain damage, which made him one of the lucky ones. "Take point," she told him, gesturing off towards a warehouse on the edge of the colony. According to her HUD, the colonial garrison used it to store supplies and equipment, making it the logical place to search for the beacon. "Towards that building."

Kaiden acknowledged the order with a short nod, and moved off. Kara signed that Ashley should follow him, and took up the rear herself. She forced herself to focus as she ran, summoning a biotic field to pull a nearby geth from its perch, as soon as they were close enough. She doubted that the fall had damaged it, but at least it no longer had line of sight, allowing them make use of cover along the way.

The effort also left her feeling light-headed, a sure sign that they needed to take a moment to regroup, and hopefully come up with a plan. Finding the beacon would either require a witness or computer records. She did hope for survivors, and there were no bodies in sight, which… maybe wasn't a hopeful sign, considering that their enemy seemed to have the ability to convert corpses into soldiers, but it was another fact that made her doubt that the geth alone were behind the attack. The shambling cyber-zombies were probably not effective as shock troops, or even against civilians. As weapons of terror, though, they were a work of genius. Could an AI understand the emotion well enough to craft such a horror?

Coming up on the warehouse, Kaidan took cover behind a parked antigrav-lift, while Kara approached the small side door. In theory, her command codes would allow her access to any non-sensitive Alliance facility, but she was hardly surprised when the small display flashed 'access denied' in bold red letters. The system wasn't exactly sophisticated, appropriate to a simple warehouse, and changing the protocols was easy enough for any expert.

They were still under fire, though, if only from a single geth, and it was too distant to be a real threat. The others were probably regrouping, though she couldn't say why they hadn't left enough units behind to guard the warehouse as well; maybe they were all inside it, or maybe there was nothing of value for them to guard, though they had taken the time to corrupt the door controls.

"Ash," she said, drawing the marine's attention to a crate pushed up against the side of the building. Using her biotics to lower its mass to manageable levels, they were able to lift it on its side, and push it into position by the door, without much trouble.

Moving behind this cover, she pulled off her helmet, hooked it on her belt, and ran her gloved fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. Then she brought up the hacking suite on her omnitool, began attempting to access the lock. It was easy work, but not quick, and range limitations meant that moving would interrupt the process.

Taking advantage of the moment, she pulled an energy bar from her pocket, and tore open the wrapper. They were dry, and not very flavorful, but some sort of boost was necessary to power any extensive use of biotics, and she preferred the solid form to the saccharine-sweet 'biotic juice' supplied by the Alliance, and fortified with adrenal boosters and stimulants. She didn't need help focusing—in fact, it put her on edge and damaged her concentration, which a biotic could not afford. "How are you holding up, Kaidan?"

The older biotic had just capped his own canteen, and slipped it back into its sheath. Her glanced at her briefly, and returned his attention to the approach. "Just fine, sir."

Kara understood his dismissiveness, a product of military culture, and worse in some sense for biotics, who faced heightened expectations from command, and some suspicion from their fellow soldiers. "I was implanted with an L2," she said, softly.

Kaidan turned towards her again, this time surprised, noting the slight narrowing of her eyes, and her clenched jaw, evidence of pain that she didn't feel. He had assumed she was too young, but she wasn't quite, though she had been one of the last, receiving her implant while the L3 model was in testing. "It's nothing that'll affect my performance."

Shaking her head, Kara washed the last of her bar down with water from her canteen, and stuffed the empty wrapper back in her pocket. "That's not what I asked."

"I—" the lieutenant began, cutting himself off. "They're not bad, now—geth, sir!"

Kara frowned, and checked her omnitool. Some progress, but not enough. She executed a hasty command, then pulled her pistol, and prepared to assist her team.

* * *

With the geth disposed of, Kara was able to hack the lock without further interruption, and led the way through the open door. Inside was about what one expected, supplies of military rations, weaponry, and armor, all arranged for easy access in an emergency. The prothean artifact stood out amidst the clutter, a little over two a half meters in height. It's design aesthetic could easily have been human or asari, a spire made of two pillars that curved into one, with the main components wedged between them. A glowing control panel, placed ten centimeters too low for the average human, waited for input.

She found it fascinating, despite her persistent lack of interest in prothean studies. They were dead and gone, but there was potential here that damaged technology simply could not offer. Saren, the geth, whoever was behind the attack, they were not interested in the beacon itself, and therefor not the technology of it. It must have contained—and perhaps still did—valuable information. Knowledge of the protheans that did not have to be gathered up from the scraps of their civilization.

"Kaidan, take Ashley and check the rest of the warehouse," Kara said, not even listening to his response. She stepped closer to the beacon. There were plenty of people better qualified than herself for working with prothean technology, but the allure of curiosity was difficult to resist.

Pulling off her armored gloves, she tucked them under her belt, and ran her fingers across the surface of the device. It was cool and lightly textured, like a type of ceramic. The controls lit up, as though responding to her presence, and—

Images? Or memories, projected directly into her brain. They were somewhat incoherent, and _painful_. Terribly painful. She could smell smoke, and it burned her lungs. Bodies, everywhere, and some sort of mechanical scream. Something big, but not clearly defined. It was all a jumbled; no narrative, no coherence. Just fear, and pain.

Without warning, her head was empty again. Kaidan was talking to her, but she couldn't hear. Or move. The world slowly began to spin, fading to black as she fell. Yes, she realized; she was falling.

And then the blackness overtook her.

* * *

_AN: So, I promised a revision. I'll leave the original up, and though there are significant changes to the level of detail and immersion, I'm happy enough with the plot. This will be more about foreshadowing things that need it, fixing inconsistencies, and other general improvements. I'll also be looking to give some characters more space._

_Enjoy._


	2. Rogues

CHAPTER TWO  
_Rogues_

Kara awoke with a painful headache. She couldn't seem to remember where she was, or how she'd gotten there. She didn't recall getting drunk. She'd done that before, the night they pinned a medal on her for her conduct during the Skyllian Blitz. It was an experience she swore she'd never repeat.

She tried opening her eyes. An Alliance sickbay? The _Normandy_. Alcohol was forbidden of frigates, and there was no room for a still, so it wasn't that. Had she been on a mission. Or… what? She had memories, but they were an incoherent jumble of colors and smells, mixed together as if her brain could not tell one from the other. "Karin?"

"Kara, good. How are you feeling?"

Kara liked Doctor Karin Chakwas. She seemed like a decent person, and an excellent doctor, quiet, but firm when it came to fulfilling her duties. Her lined face bore an expression of concern.

"I'm—" Fine? She was not so far gone that she needed to hide any weakness, but the headache was endurable. "Confused, mostly. I was… on a mission?"

"Yes. You were deployed to recover a prothean artifact, remember. You've been out for nearly a day."

Yes. Jenkins had been killed by… by geth. How could she have forgotten that? Then they had rescued a soldier. Ashley Williams. She had a feeling that things had ended badly, but no details. "Did I succeed?"

"Kaidan reported that you came into contact with the beacon. Commander, it induced some strange neural readings in your memory centers… can you recall any dreams you might have had?"

Did that explain the jumbled images in her head? A prothean message? "Yes, but nothing that makes any sense. What happened to the colony?"

"The immediate threat is over, but I'm afraid that's all I know. That's what I get for being outside the flow of information."

Even if she didn't remember the details, Kara knew herself; she would have done what she could for the colony. It was a relief to know that she had done enough.

"I treated you for minor burns to your face and neck, Commander, but nothing serious. You're free to go, but I want you to come back if you start to feel any worse. You should also get some rest."

Kara smiled and nodded. "Of course." She was feeling hungry, and in need of a shower. The captain would want to speak with her, as well, but that could wait. "Thank you, Karin."

"There's no need for that, Kara," the doctor said, smiling gratefully. "I'm just doing my job."

Sliding off the medical bed, Kara took the uniform that someone—probably Karin—had laid out for her, and retreated to the showers, at the rear of the crew deck. They were empty, but it was mid shift. She jammed the door behind her anyways. She stripped out of her cloth armor undersuit, and activated the nearest shower.

Washing quickly, she still found herself lingering longer under the soothing stream of water than was necessary, before toweling dry and pulling on her trousers. The woman in the mirror looked older than she recalled, her deep green eyes exhausted. What had they seen on Eden Prime, that she didn't yet remember? Her short, red-auburn hair, was still damp, and nearly black, stuck up in nearly every direction. Running her fingers through it helped a little, but she did not care overmuch, and left it, pulling the plain white uniform shirt over her shoulders. She buttoned it all the way up to its collar, and tucked the ends under the hem of her pants.

Leaving the washroom with her uniform tunic in hand, she walked out into the mess. The long table was empty, save for a lonely-looking Ashley Williams, pocking forlornly at a mostly-full try. Kara recognized the pain in the marine's face, and a sighed as she claim a tray of her own. She sat across from the younger woman, offering a kind smile.

"I'm afraid you never get used to it," Kara said softly.

Ashley started, looking up at her in surprise. "Sir?"

"The food, I mean."

The marine almost smiled, but not quite. "It's fine, really. It reminds me of my father's cooking."

Kara could only guess at Ashley's age, but she put it at twenty-three or so; long enough for her to have served the one-year term of mandatory garrison duty on one of the colonies. While not all marines were offered a shipboard posting when their term ended, the more promising ones were. As she was clearly a skilled marine, she had most likely requested a colonial posting. It wasn't unheard of; starside postings were more glamorous, but planetary duty had enough advantages to keep the officer positions filled. Decent food, for example, and bigger quarters.

"I was raised on Arcturus Station," Kara said, "but I've always loved being outdoors. I'm sorry we took you away from that."

"You didn't… no. I've dreamed of this all my life, sir," Ashley replied. Then what had held her back? Her service record would likely answer that, if only to satisfy her curiosity.

Kara reached across the table, and laid her hand on the marine's. Ashley's brown eyes actually lifted, and met hers. "I've been where you are, Ash, and I know a little of what you're going through. At first, I hated myself for surviving Elysium. It meant I hadn't done enough to save my squad, that I was weak. Then the Alliance comes along, and gives me a medal for my failure?"

She gave a half-smile, and removed her hand. "Being human isn't a weakness. You did everything you could."

Ashley nodded, not smiling, though her eyes looked a touch less morose. Grieving took time, as Kara well knew, but it didn't have to be endured alone. "Thank you, sir."

Kara let her attention turn to her tray. The _Normandy_ was a recon and infiltration frigate, its internal compartments organized around that mission. That meant a smaller than average crew, and a month's supply of essentials—hence the rehydrated, inedible mush they passed off as food. Even hunger did not make it appealing, but there was nothing else, and she forced herself to eat it.

She had finished about half her meal when Anderson came on deck. Ashley leapt to her feet. "Captain, sir."

"As you were, chief," he said, returning her salute. "Commander, Doctor Chakwas told me you were awake. How are you feeling?"

"Better, sir. In need of sleep."

"Good. I need to speak with you," Anderson said, gesturing that she follow him to his cabin, on the port side of the deck, opposite sickbay. The room was tiny, with a narrow against the forward wall, a small desk, and a spare chair. The inward curve of the exterior wall only made it seem more cramped. The captain gestured that she should sit. "I've gone over the reports from Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams. Things went to hell down there, but you held on, retrieved the artifact, and you saved the colony. Good work."

"Yes, sir."

"What you don't know is that Kaidan found a fusion bomb inside the warehouse, armed and set to go off. It would have taken out most of the colony, if he hadn't disarmed it. You should have secured the area yourself, before checking out the beacon."

Clearly, and she should have guessed at its presence. She recalled the burned farmland, and the obvious implications. If the geth wanted to place blame on the batarians, though, they would have to leave no contrary evidence.

"The alloys and circuit configuration were batarian, but from the his report, I'm not certain they were involved. This Saren, the turian that dockworker saw kill Nihlus, he's a Spectre, one of the best. He hates humans. He wants to see us all dead, and now he thinks he's found a way to do it. I've set course for the Citadel. Ambassador Udina will get us an audience with the Council. We'll see that he's brought to justice."

Nihlus was dead? Kara didn't—no. She did remember. He had been shot through the back of the head. Executed, at close range. Yes, and the name Saren, uttered by a tense dockworker. They didn't have evidence, just suspicions. Why was Anderson so convinced that the turian was guilty? "You're personal biases aren't proof, Captain. They'll only hurt our case against him."

"That's not your business, Commander," the aging marine said, frowning at her.

"It is if it affects the mission," she told him softly. "All you've got on him is an old grudge."

"Then you'll have to find some real evidence, Shepard," Anderson snapped.

Kara sighed. That would be nearly impossible, so long as the Council extended its protection over the turian Spectre, but the first thing she wanted to know was how he and Anderson were connected. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Leaning on the railing in Ambassador Udina's office, Kara stared out over the Presidium, the government and diplomatic sector of the Citadel. Almost a hundred meters below, exotic plants from across Council space bordered long pools of clear water. A small scattering of people, mostly human, walked along the wide paths, or stood in small groups, enjoying the picturesque setting, and the scented artificial breeze. She had been on the station before, and had even signed up with the Alliance at the recruiting office in the wards.

At forty-five kilometers long, the Citadel was the largest known manufactured object in existence, and believed to be another relic of the protheans. For two thousand, five hundred years, it had served as the seat of the Citadel Council, a coalition government, made up of the turian, asari and salarian races, which dealt mainly with interspecies relations. Another five species, humanity included, accepted the Council's diplomatic and trade authority, but had no representation. More than thirteen million beings, with individuals from every known race, lived on the station's five sprawling arms, known as the wards, making it the single most diverse location in the galaxy. It had been an excellent place for a young woman to learn about other peoples.

"I managed to arrange a meeting with the Council," Ambassador Donnel Udina declared. As the Alliance's representative before the Council, he was widely known, a righteously arrogant man, belligerent in his defense of 'humanity', which he all to often equated with corporate interests. Kara considered that reason enough to dislike him, and didn't expect meeting him in person to change his mind. "A Geth attack on a human colony, led by a rogue spectre. They'll have to send in the fleet."

"They won't," Kara sighed. Anyone with sense could see it. When Alliance had begun establishing colonies on the edge of batarian space, it had been made plain that they did so at their own risk. Since all the signs pointed to the attack on Eden Prime being an isolated incident, rather than a prelude to invasion, what Udina really wanted was for the Council to intimidate the batarians.

With a brief announcement chime, the holoprojectors on the left wall flared to life, a brief column of light resolving into the shape of the three Councillors. Kara turned to face them.

"Councillors," Udina said, nodding his head in their in their direction. "This is Captain Anderson, Commander Shepard."

The middle figure, a tall, dignified asari, her face barely showing a hint of alienness beyond the deep blue of her skin, nodded in return. Her name was Adar Tevos, and eight hundred year old matriarch, and a well-respected diplomat. "Ambassador. Captain. Commander." Her calm gaze settled for a long moment on Kara.

"The situation on the frontier is getting out of control. We have reports that the Batarian Hegemony is building up for a major attack on Alliance holdings. You _must_ deploy your fleets to protect our colonies."

"We've received no such reports," said the salarian, Tellin Valern, his large, intense eyes focused on the ambassador. Their intelligence service, the Special Tasks Group, had a reputation for being the best in the galaxy. "Deploying Council fleets on the border would be an act of aggression against the Hegemony, and could lead to war. We will pursue that path only as a last resort. You will have to use diplomacy to solve this crisis."

Kara wasn't certain if a diplomatic solution could be found, and not just because of the Hegemony's extreme isolationism. The Alliance had deliberately increased tensions on more than one occasion.

Udina scowled, and folded his arms across his chest. "What about Saren. I _demand_ that he be stripped of authority, and turned over to the Alliance for trial."

"We've reviewed your evidence, Ambassador," stated Varrus Sparatus, the turian councillor, "and it is our opinion that you've failed to make a case against Spectre Arterius."

"Councillor, I know our evidence is weak," Kara ventured, before Udina could make another extravagant demand, "but isn't the threat of a rogue Spectre grave enough to warrant an investigation—"

"An investigation has already been conducted," the holographic turian stated dismissively. "Saren has been cleared of all charges."

"You're protecting him," Udina almost shouted. "If a turian colony had been attacked, you would have acted by now. I demand-"

"Ambassador!" Kara snapped, "shut up." She wondered at herself; she normally kept better control of her tongue, if only to preserve her career, but it was a career that she didn't even want anymore.

Udina glared at her, preparing a sharp response, but she ignored him, turning her attention to the holographic councillors. "If not Saren, then someone else was responsible for the attack. That person was known to Nihlus, and had knowledge of the beacon. Surely you agree that the person responsible must be caught, and their plans uncovered?"

"It would make an interesting test of her abilities," the salarian councillor said, studying her intently with his large, dark eyes. If he was talking to his fellow councillors, they made no reply. "Commander Shepard, you will be in charge of the investigation. Find out who was responsible, and action will be taken."

"What about our colonies?" Udina demanded; she wondered if he could do anything else. "You must send in your fleet to protect them."

"Enough, Ambassador," the turian said, his mandibles flaring in irritation, or anger. "You do not give us orders."

The asari glanced at the other councillors, the salarian on one side and turian on the other. "This meeting is adjourned," she said. A moment later, the projector shut off. Inside it, cooling fans continued to hum quietly.

Udina was the first to break the new silence. "Commander, what the hell did you think you were doing?"

Kara shook her head, giving him a look of silent contempt before walking out into the hall. She knew he was a dangerous man, but for the present, at least, there was little he could do.

* * *

Kara had only just finished fastening the clasps of her asian-style civilian tunic, when the door to her quarters chimed. The small suite had been assigned to her by the embassy, for the duration of her stay. It could only be Anderson, come to berate her for talking back to the ambassador, and she sighed in irritation. "Come."

"What the hell were you thinking, Shepard?"

Kara walked out the bedroom to confront the captain, who was standing next to the couch, with a dark scowl on his warn features. It was a foolish question, considering that she had been the one to get the Council's cooperation. "You're the one that walked into that meeting with an old score to settle, Captain. Did you think they'd forgotten about it?"

The older man clasped his hands behind his back, his scowl fading into a more introspective look. "So you know about that."

Not precisely. Even the most classified of operations had a way of making it onto extranet conspiracy sites, though often in a garbled state. She knew he had been a spectre candidate, with Saren observing, and that a great many innocent people had died during their only joint mission. What they meant to do was a subject of debate, as was what went wrong. Anderson obviously blamed the turian, but the Council had seemingly found his case less than compelling. "Yes."

"It isn't an easy thing to talk about, Shepard, but you're right. I should have told you." He sighed, seating himself on the small couch. "You were still out of line."

Kara shrugged. According to protocol, she knew he was right. She also didn't care. Udina's methods were those of a spoiled child, long assured of its special place in the universe. Of course he couldn't understand how anyone might disagree. She had expected better of Anderson, though.

"Look, I don't like Udina either, but he's got a lot of pull back on Arcturus Station. Right now, I'd say you're half-way to a court martial, and you won't get out of this one just because you're right."

"That's what I was told last time," Kara said. She had even believed it, at the time, and it had not concerned her. There would be no hearing against her now, not with the Council watching. Not without better cause than one offended politician. "If there's nothing else, I've got an investigation to begin."

"I wanted to talk with you about that, too. The ambassador and I discussed it, and we have some suggestions. He thinks you should start with an ex-CSec officer named Ben Harkin. The man's scum, a disgrace to the species, into just about everything, as long as he could make a few quick credits out of it. Since he was one of the first humans to join, almost twenty years ago, the embassy used to intervene, and kept him from being dismissed. They were afraid it would hurt our reputation."

As usual, the Alliance tried to hide corruption, rather than actively fighting it, probably doing more damage to humanity's reputation than admitting the truth would have.

"With his connections, he might be able to turn something up," Anderson said, leaning back in a posture designed to take up space. "Or he might lead you into an ambush."

"That's not much of an option."

"No," the man agreed, scratching his chin briefly. "If you were less confrontational, Commander, Ambassador Udina might have agreed to point you towards a more reliable source. I don't think Harkin will help you, but unless you want to try CSec, it's all you've got."

"I'll manage," Kara stated softly. CSec seemed the better place to start, as even a failed investigations might offer some trail to follow. Anything was better than simply wandering about, hoping to stumble across a clue.

Anderson shook his head. "I'm glad that one of us is confident. Look, I have some sources of my own. I'll do some poking about, and I'll let you know if I find anything."

"Very well," Kara nodded.

* * *

The door slid open soundlessly, revealing a plainly decorated space, generous in proportions. Like Udina's office, the far side of the room ended in a balcony, overlooking the grounds of the Presidium. The sound of distant voices drifted through, the soft cadences of _Thessíe_—the primary asari language—matched with a guttural turian dialect, both below the volume threshold of her translator. On the far side of the ring, she could see part of a large statue of a krogan battlemaster, this one standing proud after their victory in the Rachni War. If they had only known what the future held, as their species stalked eagerly from one war and into the next, would they have tried another way?

She dismissed thoughts of the past, and the lessons it contained, to focus her attention on the room's sole occupant. A male turian, lean and sharp-eyed, he did not even look up as she approached, focusing instead on his computer terminal. His name was Venari Pallin, Executor of Citadel Security, known as CSec.

When he did look up, it was to make a full assessment of her. He wouldn't know her by sight, but he might recognize her name, which she suspected was already displayed on his console. Her RFID signal, illegally emulated by her omnitool, rather than sent by the disabled chip in her arm, would have allowed him to access her profile as soon as she came through the door. People tended to expect something different from the Heroine of Elysium, more polish, or a more dominant presence, and didn't always know what to make of what they got.

"Can I help you, human?" His words had the hard mechanical edge of a translator, which also muted his true voice, leaving an odd disconnect between his words and the movement of his mouth, like a badly-dubbed vid. She detected no recognition in his dark eyes, but at least she had his full attention.

"Kara Shepard, I'm with the Alliance. The Council has authorized me to investigate the recent attack on Eden Prime."

"So I see, Commander. If you're looking for advice, the best place to look for evidence is the scene of the crime. You should start there."

Kara smiled. "I did. I'm surprised you didn't know that. Our report would have gone through your office."

"Typical human," the turian grunted, "always thinking the rules don't apply to you. Let me tell you something, Commander; in thirty years in CSec, I've had to deal with the scum of the galaxy, and never once bent or broken the rules to bring them to justice. Those rules say that we don't share information with anyone, civilian or military, and the Council can't change that."

"And how many spectres have you taken down?" Kara asked.

Pallin's mandibles flared irritation. "I will not use the Council's questionable decision to create the Spectres to justify breaking the law."

Kara did not approve of the power granted to Spectres anymore than she did dogmatic adherence to 'the law'. The law was hardly the monolithic mass that such an attitude implied, as the rules could be, and often were, changed to benefit those who wrote them.

"I know what you're going to say. Laws aren't perfect, but they're the common ground that allows us to built a civilization that includes so many conflicting cultures."

"Mutual respect is what makes a civilization," Kara replied. Respect that grew out of understanding, rather than the threat of institutional violence, which the law represented. In this case, the law shielded someone that was beyond its authority to challenge, which presented a paradox for the Executor. "All I'm asking for is cooperation in pursuit of a common goal. If you can't help me, do you know anyone who can?"

"_All_ CSec officers are constrained by the law, Commander. Not just those who find it convenient," the turian said, his voice taking on a sharper tone, as though he was offended by the question. She wondered if he was thinking about someone in particular. The officer assigned to investigate Saren? "Now, unless there's something else, I've got important matters to take care of."

Kara sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair, as Pallin turned his attention back to his console. She would have to try Harkin, and hope he could be trusted.

* * *

Kara gritted her teeth, and tried not to allow the throbbing music to transmogrify into a throbbing headache. She hated loud bars, their foul smell and repetitive music, the constant flashing advertisements, and of course the clientele. She disliked the exotic dancing almost as much. Maybe it was simply her sensitivity to human culture, but there was a causal sexism to it, an objectification, that set her teeth on edge. She half wondered if Udina had suggested the place as a punishment for her behavior, but he couldn't have known.

Determinedly, she made her way past around the bar. An older man, a fringe of greying hair surrounding his bare scalp, sat against the far wall, his eyes glazed with alcohol and more as he watched the nearest half-naked dancer, a brown-skinned human woman. He matched the description Anderson provided her with, though she doubted he'd be much help. Regardless, she took a seat across from him. "You Harkin?"

He stirred, his eyes hazily focusing upon her. "Yeeah, princess. Who's askin'?"

Her jaw tightened. Anderson hadn't mentioned that the man was a misogynistic prat, as well as corrupt, in addition to being corrupt. "I'm looking for information."

"Why don't we discuss it over a lap dance," Harkin drawled. He patted his thigh.

Kara's hand clenched involuntarily. The last time anyone had propositioned her, she kneed him in the groin, and it was no less tempting now. She walked around the table, dragged Harkin off his chair, and shoved him up against the wall. He struggled to break free, but a life of corruption hadn't left him in the best shape. "Listen up, you pathetic little shit," she hissed, leaning in close enough to taste his foul breath. "This is the only kind of physical contact you and I are going to have, so you can either answer my questions, or I can leave you here to drown in your own fucking vomit. Clear?"

Harkin didn't look frightened, just uncomfortable as he struggled to breath. "Alright, jeez, I was just foolin'!"

A few seconds later, the ex-cop was curled up on the floor, wheezing in pain. He was a contemptible creature, hardly worth her time anymore. It said a great deal about humanity that it defended something like him. She crouched over him. "One more chance."

He straightened himself out with some difficulty, unabashedly massaging his groin. Behind the pain, there was anger in his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"I need information on Saren Artarius, the Spectre. Or anyone that might know about the attack on Eden Prime."

"Shit, you're Shepard. Fuck," Harkin swore. "Look, it's more than my life is worth to pry into his affairs. I can't help you, I don't know anything, and I don't want to."

His fear was genuine, if his fresh focus was any indication, but she doubted his claims of ignorance. "I don't believe you," she told him coldly.

"It's true!" Kara grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him to his feet. "Alright, alright. I heard a few things. They executor assigned some turian hotshot, name of Garrus Vakarian, to investigate Saren. He might be able to help you."

"Anything else?"

"A Volus named Barla Von. He's a financial advisor by trade, but he does some deals for the Shadow Broker on the side. The Broker'll have something for you, but it won't come cheap."

She didn't know much about the Shadow Broker, just enough to know that no one really did. An elusive individual, or organization, trading information to the highest bidder, she assumed the Alliance had contacts of its own, and had already pressed them for information about Saren. The turian would be a more reliable place to start, if he was more willing to talk than the Executor.

"Thanks," she said, contemplating him for a moment longer. He merely stared back, beginning to look glazed again. She pushed him back to his chair, then she fled the room as quickly as she could. Once out the door, she kept walking until the music faded into the noise of the shoppers traversing the wards.

_Calm_. She breathed deeply, again and again, letting the tension drain—

"Commander? Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes, finding Alenko staring into her face. "I'm fine. We need to find a CSec officer, Garrus Vakarian."

His concerned expression didn't fade, much to her annoyance. "Sir, I'll check with CSec, they'll know where to find him. Why don't you wait here?" She raised an eyebrow. "Sir."

Kara had meant to question his concern, not his protocol, so she nodded affirmation. Every night since her contact with the artifact, the images it had burned into her mind were echoed in her dreams, but she remained unable to draw much meaning from them. They warned of death, Whatever they meant, she woke up feeling drained, not well-rested.

With Alenko gone, she turned to Williams. "Care for something to drink, Ash?" she asked, gesturing at a nearby café, open to the promenade on two sides. The flowing alien script above the door was written _Thessié_, and seemed to be a proper name.

"No, sir," Williams replied.

Kara shrugged, and made her way over, the marine trailing close behind. The customers were mostly asari, a few salarians and only one other human, all looking pleased with their orders. When she reached the counter, the asari smiled at her, and greeted her with an accented English 'hello', before reverting to _Thessíe_, mechanically translated. "What can I get you?"

The young asari's friendly demeanor, and pretty blue eyes, tempted her to ignore the menu. "Hot tea. A kind you like."

"You enjoy surprises?"

"Sometimes," Kara said, smiling softly. It felt like the first time all day that she'd done so, and she appreciated the chance, and she leaned against the counter. "It depends upon the company."

The blue asari laughed, as she busied herself with Kara's order. "I do believe you're flirting with me."

"No, I—" Kara cut off her objection, and shook her head, still smiling. She _had_ let herself get swept up by the moment. "I am, yes."

"Well, don't stop. You seem like the charming type."

Kara laughed, shaking her head. "Not as charming as your smile."

"I knew it," the asari grinned, setting a ceramic mug on the counter. The rising steam carried a scent somewhat reminiscent of fresh ginger and basil. "Zarrisa leaf, with a hint of cardamom. An uncommon tea for an uncommon woman. Enjoy."

"It would taste better if I didn't have to drink it alone," Kara said, confirming payment from her omnitool.

"I'd love to join you, but Laeral won't be in for another hour. Didn't you come in with that marine?" Following the asari's gesture, Kara spotted Ashley, seated at a table with a good view of the promenade, and her back to the wall. Her lips were set in a firm scowl. "I don't think she approves of me."

"No," Kara sighed, her good mood beginning to fade. She turned back to the asari, mustering one final smile. "Thanks for being friendly…"

"Saria."

"You've brightened an otherwise grim day, Saria. Thank you," she finished.

Saria smiled at her. "Come back any time."

Wishing that she could, that she had the time or the freedom, Kara walked over the Ashley's table, and sat down. She ignored the marine, as she sipped carefully at her tea. It tasted quite different from how it smelled, a subtle combination of flavors, dominated by a compelling bitterness. "It's better than coffee," she said, looking up. "Care for a taste, Ash?"

"What-why were you flirting with that _thing_?"

Kara groaned inwardly as her briefly cheerful mood faded completely. There were times when she regretting ever coming back to the Alliance. "Two things," she said, quietly, meeting the young woman's gaze coldly. "First, if I ever hear you talk like that again, you'll find yourself scrubbing the _Normandy_'s waste storage tanks until your transfer back planetside comes through. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Secondly, why shouldn't I? I didn't hear her objecting."

"But it-_she_ isn't human."

Kara sighed, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. It was a fairly common attitude, which only made it seem more distasteful. "I'm not interested in sorting out your prejudices." She said, stared into her cup. The liquid was orangish and slightly cloudy. She took another drink. "Go meet an asari or two, or a turian. Get to know an elcor. Be sure to report back in time for your next shift."

"You're dismissing me?" Williams asked, looking shocked and more than a little angry.

Was she? Kara guessed that Ashley's attitude reflected ignorance more than bigotry, but it sounded the same, and she couldn't have the marine mouthing off in front of Garrus, or wherever else the trail led, and perhaps it would broaden Williams' mind a little. Either that, or she would know to start filling out transfer orders. "I am. Be off with you."

"Yes, sir," Williams acknowledge sharply, and stalked off. Kara wondered if she'd lose the weapons before attempting to make friends, or if she'd just find a corner to sulk in.

Either way, she had peace at last. She took of breath of tea-scented air, switched off her translator, and closed her eyes. She could hear eight different voices, speaking different languages and dialects, competing for her attention with the jazz-like background music of the café. Both were intriguing windows into other cultures, and almost hypnotic in her present state.

"_Alenko to Commander Shepard._"

She sighed, and activated her omnitool. "Shepard here."

"_I found Lieutenant Vakarian. He's agreed to meet us on the Presidium Commons, section two-alpha. I'll catch up to you there._"

"I'm on my way, Lieutenant."

Finishing the rest of her tea, Kara brought the cup to the counter with her. She smiled at Saria, but the asari was busy filling an order for another customer, and replied only with a faint nod.

* * *

_AN: Chapter two has been split in half, with most of it ending up here, so Ch.3 'Pilgrims' will be getting some new content. I won't expand on what I'm planning, but I shouldn't have any trouble coming up with stuff._


	3. Pilgrims

CHAPTER THREE  
_Pilgrims_

Kara took one of the public aircars up to the Presidium dock under section alpha. Though they could pass through the simulated sky and the dense mass effect field that held in the atmosphere, CSec restricted traffic in the area, to keep the less desirable elements away from the VIPs. As if by coincidence, these restrictions kept the poor and homeless that occupied parts of the wards from cluttering up the walkways of the rich. An asari officer checked her ID and scanned her for weapons, before waving her on with an amused expression.

From the docks, a high speed lift carried her inwards, past the Presidium grounds and up the walls to the Commons, small open areas scattered along the upper rim, from which people could overlook the grounds. Below, alpha section included the lift up the Presidium Tower, home of the Citadel Council, and the embassies of the associate races, which made the Commons section into a popular tourist spot. The CSec presence was higher than in most other parts of the station, giving her several uniformed turian males to choose from.

Instead, she walked down the terraced floors to the lowest rail, and looked out over the grounds. She could see the krogan statue again, still enduringly unaware of his species' fate, and the Tower itself, rising up until it disappeared behind the false sky, a hundred meters away. At its base stool a scale model of a Mass Relay, a monument to the greatest achievement of the protheans, the network of primary and secondary Relays which spread across the galaxy, allowing travel and more than a thousand light years a day. Without them, it was unlikely that any sort of galactic civilization would exist, with each species limited stars within a few hundred light years of their homeworld.

"Commander Shepard?"

Kara turned at the unexpected, resonant turian voice. He was wearing a standard turian-manufactured light armor, enameled with CSec-blue highlights, and lieutenant's insignia on the shoulders. Blue face paint, a symbol of his homeland and not his occupation, ran over his nose and under his eyes. "Garrus Vakarian?"

"That's right. I heard the Council had assigned a human to investigate Saren," he said, studying her skeptically. I don't know what they think you can accomplish that I can't, but I wish they'd sent you to me."

"They're testing me," Kara said. In his place, she would find the Council's decision demeaning. "I'm not looking to take over from you, Garrus, but we may have more success if we work together."

"I've been ordered not to," he sighed, his mandibles flexing thoughtfully, "but what the hell. It's not like I have much to show for two years of effort. My leads always end up drifting."

"Are you working on anything right now?"

"Two things. There's rumors that Saren is recruiting krogan through an intermediary, a vicious warlord named Dovar. Some say she's promising a second Uprising, if you can believe it."

There could be no second Uprising, not as things stood. The krogan did not have a fleet of warships, or even the industrial infrastructure necessary to manufacture one, and could not present a credible threat without both. They could not sustain a war from a population standpoint, either. The genophage, the salarian bioweapon which had ended the Krogan Rebellions, negatively effected gestation, leading to a live birth rate of one out of every hundred fertilized ovum. As a result, they were already facing an extinction crisis.

Despite the long decline of their species, krogan mercenaries were still common, as both the young and old went off seeking a glorious death, to counteract the seeming futility of life, and it was certainly possible that Saren would seek to supplement the somewhat fragile geth platforms with more resilient shock troops. "And the second?"

"I have a few friends here and there. One of them told me that a pair of quarians showed up over Illium early this morning. They're claiming to have recovered important information from geth forces in the Terminus Systems, which ties in neatly to the attack on Eden Prime. They've been made to wait in orbit, or so I hear."

That sounded like the more promising of the two. They sounded to her like a pilgrims, who had presumably gone after the geth in hopes of return to the Migrant Fleet with valuable information about their rebellious creations. If it were of direct utility, they wouldn't be looking to trade it, though it might still have nothing to do with Saren or Eden Prime. "Could you put me in contact with them?"

"Sorry, no," he said. "There's something wrong with the comm relays between here and Illium. I haven't even been able to reply to my friend."

Formerly an asari colony, Illium was now a renegade outpost of the species, a part of the independent Terminus Systems, rather than the Asari Republic. It had a reputation for severe corruption and inequality under an oligarchic capitalist government, at least partially controlled by mercenary and criminal gangs. A comm blackout could certainly be arranged, for a price, which might mean that the quarians were in danger. "Let's go back to my ship, and try again with military priority."

"It seems like a long shot, but okay," Garrus agreed. "I'd hate to lose another lead, with so many lives at stake."

* * *

"Nice ship you've got here," Garrus said, following Kara along the command deck, towards the briefing room. Aside from a pair of marines guarding the airlock, the pilot, and duty officer, the deck was quiet, much of the crew enjoying leave on the Citadel. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before."

"It's a prototype, the result of a joint project between the Alliance and Hegemony," Kara told him. The project itself had been widely touted, at least within the Alliance, as an example of cross-species cooperation, though the details were classified.

"Right, I remember hearing about that. The, uh, _Normandy_, right?"

"Yes, that's right—"

"Commander, do you have a moment?"

Lieutenant Keyx Dumar, was watching Garrus, rather than her, when he spoke. He was second navigation officer, with some third-watch command experience at his last posting. Kara nodded at him, and turned the nearest station, where a young blond woman was working. "Ensign, set up a comm link with Illium, and put it through to the briefing room. Garrus will give you the address."

"Yes, sir," the officer acknowledge.

Kara kept her expression neutral, as she turned back to Keyx. He was in his late twenties, she guessed, his thick black hair combed neatly back. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Ma'am, the _Normandy_ is supposed to be classified technology. Are you sure about…"

"Let me worry about that," Kara said softly. She didn't question his concern, but the turians didn't need to steal the _Normandy_'s technology, and Garrus was an unlikely to be spying for the batarians.

"But ma'am, he's—"

"What?" Kara interrupted coldly. She had a low tolerance for casual racism, especially from her officers. That sort of idiocy tended to spread, if left unchecked.

"Nothing, ma'am."

It was only twenty-five years since the end of the First Contact War, so perhaps some misunderstanding was still to be expected. Most humans had never seen an alien outside entertainment vids, where they were often portrayed stereotypically, as villains or side-characters, and very rarely as protagonist. Kara didn't waste much time on it. The best way to learn about turian culture was to study their art directly, or as directly as the language barrier allowed, rather than a human take on it.

"Good," she sighed, checking on Garrus; the turian was passing through the heavy door into the briefing room. Leaving the Navigation officer at his post, Kara followed the turian. The main projectors displayed the progress of an outgoing communications attempt, now awaiting a response from the other end.

"You were right, Commander," Garrus said, noticing her as he sat down. "Someone put a block on all comm traffic between Illium and Citadel space, but your officer routed us through a Terminus System comm relay. I wish I'd though of that."

Routing traffic through a proxy was a solution that Kara used on a regular basis, as a means of disguising her extranet usage from the Alliance. Whether she had something to hide or not was beside the point, as her interests were not their business. "That could make for a rough connection," she said. "Keep things brief, if you can."

"Yeah, I can—" He cut himself off as the main display switched to a feed of a turian female, seated in front of a plain grey wall. Physically, turians had less sexual dimorphism than humans, with no difference in average height or body shape. The primary external difference was a slightly narrower face, and the hardened plates that covered her skull did not extend outward, like Garrus' sweeping crests. Her face was clear of paint, and thus any clan identity. "Tallix?"

The eture[1] scowled, her mandibles tightening irritably. The video was of low quality, and skipped at times. The signal's circuitous route likely took it through more than one high-traffic link, and running on civilian priority, which resulted in inconsistent bandwidth. "Vakarian, you ugly thresher-spawn. About time you got back to me. You interested in those quarians or not?"

"That depends on what they're carrying."

"I wouldn't know, but rumor has it someone sent a turian merc after them, and not one of the cuddly ones. An eturi named Jacobus. Rumor has it he's working for Saren, but my source for that is… unreliable."

"Are you sure the quarians are selling geth data?" Kara inquired. Even if they weren't, she supposed that Saren might be responding to the same rumors, but he could also have more direct information that confirmed the claim.

"Who's the pyjak, Vakarian?" the turian asked, her lip turning up in a distasteful sneer. "CSec still lowering its standards?"

Of course, racism went both ways. Humans were pushing their way into a civilization that had survived quite well without them, and doing so with an aggressive arrogance that predictably created resentment.

"Hell, Tallix, we wouldn't hire you," Garrus said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "but I guess that _is _a low standard. Just answer her question."

"Yes, or as sure as I get without seeing it for myself. If they lied, it was a pretty stupid thing to do," the eture said. "Word is that they died in an explosion under the spaceport, and Jacobus left on a transport to the Citadel. Maybe he's got the information you're after, if you can wrest it from him."

She resented, actually, not being able to help the quarians. They were thrust from their homes, left to fight against a galaxy that viewed them as little more than scavengers and thieves. Their government did not release statistics on attrition rates, and proper estimates were difficult to find, but as many as half of all pilgrims never returned to the Migrant Fleet. "Even if he doesn't, we should speak to him."

"I have the ship's registry number," Tallix grinned. "For a price."

"You'll get your credits," Garrus said. "Just send the data."

"I'm appending the title docs. He'll try and skip out on customs, so watch out for that."

"Yeah, great. Thanks, Tallix. If you hear anything else, let me know."

The eture gave a vague turian military-style salute, and shut down the channel.

"So, Commander, we got another lead," Garrus said, turning towards her. "I'll have the ship flagged, but it won't come in for a few days. I suggest we make use of that time by interrogating Dovar."

Kara nodded. It was worth an attempt, at least. "Let's go."

* * *

Ilckane Dovar was much easier to find than Kara expected, and about as hospitable. The krogan tramped about in heavy combat armor, studying her guests with an angry expression on her long, scarred face. She paused, a single dark eye studying Kara intently. "Run back to your worthless colleagues, turian. I could chew you up armor and all, but I imagine you'd taste foul. The little human looks nice and tender, though."

Kara smiled back calmly, and leaned against the nearest wall. Typical krogan bravado, and not nearly as terrifying as they pretended.

"If you'd stop slobbering like a diseased varren, we could explain why we're here," Garrus suggested, no more impressed by Dovar's show than Kara.

"Huh," she growled, drawing herself up to her full height, more than two meters of muscle and bone. Krogan _were_ dangerous, powerful and resilient, but often undisciplined. The Alliance considered them priority targets in ground engagements, to be taken out at range. "Speak."

"We're investigating the activities of Saren Arterius. Rumor has it that you've been recruiting Krogan mercs for him, with some sort of grand promise."

Dovar laughed. "If I was, I wouldn't be stupid enough to tell you, turian."

Kara looked down at her hands, rubbing at her blunt nails. "It might be more foolish of you not to."

She was being terribly disrespectful, according to krogan custom, by not even acknowledging the strength of her foe. The proper response was for her to puff up her chest in her own belligerent display, and face the krogan nose to nose.

The krogan female huffed angrily, and crossed the three meters between them in a few short steps. Slamming her armored fist into the wall with enough force to send shards of the material flying, she snarled in Kara's face. "Are you threatening me, human?"

"I rather think I am," Kara declared softly. And what was the proper response? Brave, stupid, or both? She wasn't concerned with gaining the admiration of a krogan warlord.

According to the Alliance's most recent estimate, Kara was a class one biotic, among the most powerful they had produced, able to lift about three hundred kilograms at standard Earth gravity, or six if she pushed herself. They were wrong, but an armored krogan typically massed in at a tonne or more. She could do it, relying on technique to supplement raw power, focusing carefully on the practiced steps that allowed her to wrap Dovar in a powerful mass effect field, wasting neither time nor energy.

It wasn't easy, but Kara managed to reduce the krogan's mass by more than a thousand times, until she became less dense than the atmosphere in the room. Taken by surprise, she began to drift upwards. "Put me down!" she demanded loudly, swiping at Kara in an attempt to ground herself. Garrus was staring in shock.

"I'm not in the mood for games," Kara grated, struggling to maintain her focus against a growing headache. She couldn't keep the field up for long, even with her biotic amp at full power, and wouldn't be good for much after it failed. "Tell us about Saren."

"I don't know anything," the krogan insisted. "I just offer them a contract and ship them out. I don't even know where they go!"

Kara released the field. It was better than showing weakness by letting it fail, despite an angry krogan falling over two meters to the floor. Once again massing over a tonne, she struck with some impact, snarling furiously as she attempted to regain her feet.

"What the hell was that?" Kaidan asked, coming in through the door.

Kara had asked him to wait outside, but she could hardly blame him for checking in. "Garrus was just giving us a demonstration of his prowess," she said, giving the turian a warning glance.

"Uh, yeah," Garrus agreed quickly, his eyes narrowing in question. Why would an Alliance marine conceal her true strength from her comrades? Like any such deception, she believed she had a good answer. "When is the next group leaving?"

Dovar stomped her feet, still huffing indignantly, as if the entire humiliating episode could be forgotten with enough snarling and noise. "There is none. We've got all the soldiers we need, for now, and the rest will come. The krogan people will unite behind Saren's vision, and together we'll slaughter you turian dogs and your salarian masters. It'll be a glorious bloodbath!" She laughed, a deep cacophony of sound and fury.

There was nothing glorious about any war, let alone a pointless struggle for revenge again a crime as old as the Genophage. Kara raised her chin, meeting Dovar's gaze as the krogan's attention turned on her. "Don't bother, krogan," she said softly, cutting off any further threats. "You're going to tell us everything you know about those freighters. If you don't know where they went, I want their registration numbers. And I want to know just how many mercenaries you hired."

The krogan grinned, showing off rows of blunt teeth, fit more for chewing vegetation than tearing flesh. It defied standard human expectations to find that such a warlike race was mostly herbivorous, but the facts were hard to deny. "I've told you all I'm going to, human."

"I've heard enough to bring you in, Dovar," Garrus said, undercutting her proud defiance. "You can either tell us what you know, or spend your glorious campaign rotting in a cell. Your choice."

Dovar's massive shoulders slumped, and she seemed to shrink into her armor. "Fine. I'll tell you what you want to know."

* * *

Kara sat on the window ledge of her temporary quarters, in the small section of the Presidium ring kept by the Alliance for visiting dignitaries. The view was amazing, the arms of the Citadel spreading out on all sides, glittering with millions of tiny lights. Freighters and passenger cruisers passed inward, toward the docking ring, or out to the Mass Relay. A three-ship turian patrol watched over the traffic, while, further out, she could see the impressive bulk of the _Elleztere é Svesséa_, cloaked in nebular gasses, the asari-made dreadnought that served as the Council's flagship.

The name was typically translated as meaning 'Unity's Shield', a reasonable approximation, Kara supposed, but rather inaccurate. 'Support of Solidarity' worked better, but didn't flow as nicely. The ship had twice the interior volume, and its main gun almost three times the firepower, of the Alliance's biggest warships, and could shatter a Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought with a single shot.

She sipped from a cup of earthy green tea, and sighed. Their investigation was progressing slowly. Garrus had brought Dovar's information to CSec, and produced records for three of the five freighters. They had all disappeared off the beacon network, all at different points, some in the Attican Traverse, and others in the Terminus Systems. None of them had returned. They had, she assumed, transferred their cargo to some other ship, and were then destroyed, though that was merely the most obvious possibility. Either way, the mercenaries were brought to a staging area.

What they didn't have, though, was solid proof of Saren's involvement, and even if they found any, hiring mercenaries was not a crime. Maybe, with time and resources, the lead would come to something. Until then, there was little for her to do. There was no news about the two quarians from Illium, and Alliance investigators were currently combing Eden Prime for further clues.

She found idleness frustrating, and switched her omnitool over to browse the major news feeds. Celebrity gossip and political foolishness, as usual, were among the Alliance News Network's top stories. A slaver raid on an Alliance colony, New Texas, was reported to have left five dead and at least fifteen missing, while the perpetrators had escaped before the _SSV Ta Khmau_ could arrive with its taskforce. That was an unfortunately typical state of affairs, which the author of the report correctly identified as being down to the Navy's limited defensive strategy.

That was interesting. ANN writers typically blamed the local garrison, when there was one, for being unprepared, not for being too small, or, in a case like this, the colony for being too 'independent' to accept military support. The name under the title read 'Emily Wong', which was not one recognized, but there were new people entering the journalism market all the time. Most were quickly relegated to fringe sites, for their writing quality, or their refusal to conform.

The Defense Committee, which continually reaffirmed its strategy with quotes from Sun Tzu, argued that the Navy simply lacked the resources to defend ever Alliance colony, but she disagreed with that assessment. They would be stretched, certainly, but the increased likelihood of losing ships during a raid would make piracy a less attractive prospect. Instead, resentment towards an ineffective government built up along the frontiers, and would eventually force another Torfan-like raid, tying up resources in a bloody, spectacular assault that achieved nothing.

She frowned, and began to switch over to an alternate feed, when the door chime interrupted her. She opened the door instead, and shut off the interface. "Come in."

A young woman, her black hair cut short, entered the room, wearing a blue dress uniform. Kara had requested that Operations Chief Aoki Sayuri be assigned to the _Normandy_, though she and a few other marines had not caught up with the ship before they left for Eden Prime. "Reporting for duty, ma'am," the marine said, throwing a casual salute.

"Hey," Kara smiled, sliding off her seat. "I wasn't told that you'd arrived."

"We just finished stowing our gear," Sayuri replied, her soft grey eyes uncharacteristically evasive. "The lieutenant told me where you to find you. I, ah, I heard you requested me. Thanks."

Kara pointed the marine towards the couch. "Your last CO was happy to have you off his hands. He said you were causing trouble with the other squad leaders."

"You know what we go through," Sayuri scowled. 'We', meaning women, Kara assumed, and she did. Equality, as usual, was more slogan than policy. "I was just looking out for my people. Anyway, I learned from the best."

The Japanese marine—then a private—had been present on Torfan, during the events that had nearly resulted in Kara's court martial. Sometimes, circumstances required that the chain of command be violated. "You can trust me to deal with any problems under my command."

"And a few that aren't," Sayuri smirked. "I promise I won't hit anyone without your permission, ma'am."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Kara sighed, sitting across from the marine. She preferred 'sir', if formalities were required, and her name if possible.

"Yes, sir."

It was her own fault. Her actions and decisions had kept Sayuri at a safe distance. She had done the same to nearly everyone, after Elysium. More emotional scars, forgotten rather than healed. It was an excuse, even if true, to say that they didn't have much common ground. "Have you had a chance to drive a Mako?"

"Not outside a simulator, and I wouldn't have if I'd stayed dirtside. I heard that the DC contracted Rosenkov for a next-gen Grizzly, intended for the garrisons. It's a shame, 'cause that extra maneuverability could be just enough to get you out of a tight spot. I guess saving half a million creds per unit is worth a few dead marines."

Sayuri's analysis was more or less correct. The M35 'Mako' had few downsides, when compared to the M29 Grizzly, aside from a higher price. Its thinner armor was compensated for by slightly better barriers, and a limited ability to maneuver vertically, a side-effect of its mass effect-driven low-altitude combat landing system, and could only hold four extra marines in its rear cabin, rather than six. "I'm putting you in charge of ours. You'll get a chance to try it out soon enough."

The marine grinned again. "Well, I'd better go run through a few sims, then. Gotta be prepared, right?"

Kara smiled back, nodding faintly. "I'm sure you will be."

* * *

The aircar slowed swiftly, and hovered briefly over the transit point before landing. Kara pulled the release, and pushed the door open. She knew something about how easily bypassed Customs could be, but the news that Jacobus had evaded the team assigned to bring him in and escaped into the Wards had been frustrating. Garrus had immediately begun an attempt to track the turian mercenary down, with no success, but the search had turned up something else. A break, maybe.

A CSec patrol had found a quarian corpse less than an hour ago, dead from what appeared to be gunshot wounds. His name was Keenah'Breizh, and he had recently been turned over to CSec by a freighter captain, who had found him and a quarian female stowed-away on her ship. Its last stop had been Illium, and it had arrived four hours before Jacobus' transport. That had been almost thirty hours ago.

Kara had suggested to Garrus that their efforts go towards finding the other quarian, whose name they had down as Tali'Zorah, rather than Jacobus. Fifteen minutes ago, he had contacted her with a lead; a quarian female had evidently sought treatment for an injury in a small clinic.

Stepping out onto the platform, Kara checked her omnitool for directions. She thought about waiting for Kaidan, whom she had told to meet her at the clinic, but decided to head out immediately. If Jacobus was following the same trail, she didn't want Garrus to have confront him alone.

The corridors of sector twenty-eight were much like the rest of the Wards, a uniform grey broken by the occasional view of the nebula. The area had a large human population, most of them tired-looking, and dressed in cheap clothes. They had fled poverty on Earth, only to find that it followed them, imposed by greed rather than lack of resources. Citadel law ensured that they were fed, but could not provide jobs, or transport off the station. That was the responsibility of their government, which promoted charity rather than real solutions.

Leaving the more populated main section, she soon came to a door painted with a white cross. She tapped the access panel. The clinic was a single room, divided in the middle by a half wall, beyond which she could see beds. Garrus, still wearing his armor, stood at the opening, his hands held up in a placating gesture.

Kara stepped inside. The turian was watching a young human, as he held an archaic-looking pistol against the cheek of a woman. His hair and clothes were ragged, while she wore a white coat, her brown hair pinned back neatly. She was Doctor Chloë Michel, Kara assumed. A hostage? Had Garrus interrupted a shakedown, or something else?

"What's going on here?" Kara demanded.

The man turned to face her, aiming his pistol at her. The look in his eyes was of sheer terror. "Who the fu-"

She saw Garrus pull his pistol out of the corner of her eye. "No, wait!" Modern weapons were relatively quiet, using mass acceleration technology and mass effect fields to fire metal shavings at deadly speeds. The first bullet hit the man in the shoulder, and he screamed in pain, releasing his hold on the doctor, who scrambled out of the way. Two more hit him the chest, and he collapsed.

Kara noticed movement behind the doctor, opposite the turian. More criminals? She sprinted across the room, switching on her personal barrier generator as she did, using a chair to vault over the half-wall. The belt-unit didn't have a lot of power, but could absorb a few shots. Chloë was staring at her in surprise, and had no time to react before they connected, and fell in a heap between two beds.

She heard several more impacts, dull, wet _thumps_, followed by cries of pain. Then silence. She took a deep breath and stood, pulling the doctor up with her. She switched off her barrier, and turned to scowl at Garrus. "What the hell were you thinking? You _never_ put a hostage in danger like that."

"What? I saw a shot and I took it." His mandibles flared angrily. "Should I have waited until after he shot you?"

She took up an aggressive stance, intent on facing Garrus down. "Doctor, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you." She sounded shaken, so Kara relented, sitting beside her on the edge of a narrow bed.

"My name is Kara Shepard," she said, smiling encouragingly. "The turian is Garrus Vakarian."

"We've met," the doctor declared. She showed no sign of recognizing Kara's name, which was always a good thing.

"Can you tell us who these people were?" Garrus asked, gesturing at the bodies.

"I don't know," Chloë said, shaking her head. "This isn't the safest part of the Citadel."

It wasn't, but a clinic hardly seemed like a good target for a robbery. She suspected that something unrelated to the quarian was going on. "Doctor. Chloë," Kara began softly, "I'd like to help, but I need you to trust me."

"It's… it's not important," Chloë sighed.

Garrus circled around them, frowning. "Could it have something to do with a quarian female you treated for a GSW?"

The doctor blinked at him in surprise. "How did you know about her? I didn't keep any records-"

"She may have vital information. I need to track her down."

Kara glared at the turian. "I know she's in trouble, Chloë. I can keep her safe."

"I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone," the doctor sighed, finally giving an uncertain nod. "She told me she had important information, and that she wanted to trade it to the Shadow Broker for protection. I tried to talk her out of it, but… rumor says that a man named Fist is one of the Broker's agents. He runs a club in sector fourteen named Chora's Den."

"Chora's Den? Isn't that where we found Harkin, Commander?" Alenko asked, standing near the door, as though just arrived. He was wearing armor, a pistol on his hip.

"It is," she nodded.

Garrus looked down at the three bodies, their clothes stained with blood, and sighed. "Doctor Michel, I'm going to bring in a team from CSec to clean this up, and see if we can't figure out who sent them. You'll be contacted if we have any questions."

"Doctor. Chloë," Kara began. She believed the woman knew more about who sent the thugs than she let on. "If you think of anything that might help, or if you think you're in danger, please, contact me."

The doctor nodded, but didn't look up. Something _was_ bothering her, but Kara had no more time. "We have to go."

* * *

Kara surveyed the scene with some concern. Fist had, after some convincing, had admitted to arranging a meeting for the young quarian in a nearby warehouse, but not with the Shadow Broker. It was doubtful that the Broker met with anyone personally, but in this case the insipid bartender had betrayed his master and the quarian in exchange for a payout from Saren.

Standing in the shadows, Kara could see the quarian, wearing a purple environmental suit with a swirling pattern on its decorative cloth hood, which did a fine job of hiding her emotions as she stubbornly refused to give up the evidence. Most people would be intimidated by the three armed thugs that faced her, though they had not yet resorted to threats. It was her three-fingered hand that gave her nervousness away, creeping towards a grenade hooked on her belt, out of sight of the thugs.

They were equipped for a confrontation, unfortunately. Kara didn't like wandering about wearing armor and a pistol unless it was necessary, and even Kaidan hadn't suited up before joining her in the clinic. At least he was armed. She gestured silently her companions; _circle behind them, and await my signal._ He nodded, and pulled Garrus by the arm to get him to follow. They disappeared behind the stack of packing crates the filled the large space.

Kara turned her attention back to the confrontation. The mercenaries had subtly shifted their stances, a sure sign that they were preparing to attack. It was too soon. Without barriers, the quarian wouldn't last long.

Standing, Kara walked forward calmly. She must have looked absurd, an unarmed woman in civilian clothes marching up to three armored mercenaries, but she didn't let it stop her from placing herself squarely between them and their intended victim. "Back off," she ordered flatly. "She's under my protection."

The lead mercenary, a tall turian, took a swing at her with his assault rifle. She caught it and twisted, not quite wrenching the weapon from his hands, and using his momentum to throw him at a stack of crates.

She charged at the human, his brown eyes still wide with shock, ripping the rifle out of the hands of the salarian with a biotic field, catching it just before slamming into her target.

They fell to the ground, and as he struggled to throw her off she slammed the butt of her rifle into his faceplate, leaving a dense web of cracks obscuring his vision. She stood, kicking his weapon away as she turned to deal with the turian.

To her surprise, the quarian was herding him towards the salarian with his own rifle. Kara was about to comment, when Kaidan and Garrus ran into view, weapons ready. "What the hell?" Kaidan breathed.

Kara smirked, and planted her foot squarely on the chest of the fallen human. There was something oddly satisfying about so thoroughly trouncing the male of the species, which she could only attribute to more than three thousand years of ongoing oppression. "Take charge of the prisoners," she told them, tossing Kaidan her captured rifle.

"Excuse me, who are you?" the quarian demanded. Her eyes, glowing palely inside her suit, the only visible part of her face, shifted between them, and she nervously clutched her rifle.

"I'm Kara Shepard, with the Alliance. Thanks for watching my back," Kara said, giving the quarian a friendly smile. No doubt she needed a friend, after nearly a week on the run from the turian mercenary, Jacobus.

The young female lowered her rifle, and nodded faintly. "Thanks for the rescue."

"It's what I do," Kara smirked. She felt sure that it came out very wrong, as a mangled attempt at flirtation, or conceit. It was lingering energy from the fight, left with no other outlet. She forced her mouth into a more serious line. "I'm glad to help. What's your name?"

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," the quarian said. Her thin voice had a sharp edge to it, Kara decided, possibly a side effect of a stimulant. How long had she been up? "Call me Tali."

"Tali. My fellow human over there is Kaidan Alenko. The turian is Garrus Vakarian, from CSec. We came here looking for you."

"Me? Why?" Tali's grip on her rifle tightened. She stood her ground, though.

Kara held up her hands, still smiling. "I believe you recovered valuable information from the geth," she said. "I'm offering you the protection of the Alliance, in exchange for it."

"Right," the quarian said, her eyes closing briefly. "You'll handle it yourself?"

"Yes," Kara agreed. "If that's what you want."

"It's a deal," Tali agreed.

* * *

[1] Anglicization of '_etkure_', meaning 'female turian'.

* * *

_AN: For some reason, I don't like applying 'man/woman' to alien species. Probably because they share the same origin as 'human', the latin 'homo'. Hence 'eturi/eture', derived from 'turian'. It's been implied that I throw in made-up words too often, but I rather enjoy it.  
_

_Anyway. I thought of adding a scene with Fist, but it didn't seem to add anything in its conceptual stage. So I didn't. I'm pleased with the early introduction of Sayuri; Keyx was edited in for Pressly at the last minute. Hopefully, I can do a little better job of foreshadowing that which needs it, this time._

_Thanks for reading._


	4. Resignation

CHAPTER FOUR  
_Resignation_

Kara had returned to her quarters, staring again out the window into the expanse of the nebula. _Elleztere é Svesséa_ still hung where she could see it, a virtual city in space. The logistics necessary to support its crew of four thousand would be crippling, if it were not a virtual self-contained ecosystem, with hydroponic farms and recycling centers, able to provide nearly everything its crew needed, and spare parts as well. Humanity was at least a thousand years from even designing anything of the kind.

After the fight in the warehouse, Garrus and Kaidan had dragged the defeated mercenaries back to CSec, where they were locked up on charges of conspiracy to commit murder. Tali turned over a geth data core, the source of the recording of Saren, over to CSec's science division for analysis. In exchange, Kara put the quarian up in quarters next to her own, safely within the Alliance embassy.

With the investigation complete, Kara had retreated to her quarters, where she sat sipping tea and staring into space as she considered what Saren had said;

_Eden Prime was a major victory. The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the conduit._

Then the unidentified asari; _And one step closer to the return of the Reapers._

The beacon was the prothean artifact, which had transmitted its message into her brain. She had no idea what the conduit was, but she assumed it was also some sort of Prothean device. The Reapers, then, could they be the threat the message warned against?

Everything else she came up with only added more questions. If the Reapers destroyed the galaxy-spanning civilization of the Protheans, why wouldn't they do the same to the diverse civilizations that thrived now? Why would Saren want that? Why did the Geth follow him?

The answers would only be found in close pursuit of Saren. She wondered who the task would go to; it was traditional to send a Spectre. If the Council offered her the job, and she expected them to, she had decided to decline. Her resignation from the Alliance was also filled out and ready to send.

The door chime interrupted her before she could start meditating on what to do with the rest of her life. She padded barefoot across the room, and keyed the door open.

"Hey, Commander," Tali said. The environmental suit she wore constantly made reading her expression impossible, so Kara paid close attention to the tone of her voice. She sounded nervous, lonely, and a bit tired.

"Kara, Tali. Come in."

"You're much more friendly than the other humans here." Relief, as though she had expected to be brushed aside, now that she no longer had anything that Kara needed. She walked straight to the couch and sat down. "One of them accused me of being a thief! She even called security on me."

Kara sighed, and sat beside her. "I'm sorry. That kind of behavior is inexcusable. Just give me her name, and I'll straighten her out."

"No, Kara, that's—it's not necessary."

She almost insisted. The quarians had engaged in some dubious practices, following the loss of their homeworld, but nothing ever excused bigotry against an individual, and it was important that such attitudes be confronted. Her small reprimand would make little difference, though, against the weight of official policy.

"I didn't come for that anyway. I just wanted to say thank you."

"You don't need to," Kara said. "I know what it's like, to be on the wrong end of someone's preconceptions."

"I do, because I—I want to go with you when you stop Saren."

"Me?" Kara wasn't certain if she'd said it aloud or not. "No. I won't. I'm not going after Saren, and even if I were, I wouldn't take you. Tracking him down will a long and bloody business."

"You're being silly, Kara," Tali said, though she sounded more resolute than amused. "Of course you are. 'It's what I do,' remember?"

"That was-_that_ was me being silly," Kara insisted. She wasn't interested in white-knighting her way around the galaxy; she had only ever done what was necessary.

"Then there's the beacon. Lieutenant Alenko told me what happened on Eden Prime. Whatever it showed you, Saren needed it. That means you know more about what he's after than anyone else."

"I'm sure that won't make much difference," Kara muttered. She was beginning to feel outmaneuvered. All the evidence suggested he'd been after the beacon, which had stopped working after her encounter with it. It has been transferred to a team of Council scientists, who were attempting to figure out what had gone wrong, so there wasn't much chance of giving one of the current Spectres the same vision.

"Besides, what will it say about you, if you turn your back on this?"

She wasn't sure that she cared. "Tali, when I first joined the Alliance I wanted to be a heroine. Then the Blitz happened, and I became one, and for the first time I knew what it meant. It isn't clean, and it isn't fun. It's death. Blood and bodies, the injured and the dying screaming in pain. When I dream of what I did on Elysium, I wake up wishing I'd died there. I couldn't bear to expose you to that, and it's past time I stopped as well. The people who make heroes are the ones who bleat loudest for respect they haven't earned, only to demand protection when things go wrong. To hell with them. I just want to be a person."

Silence fell. Kara contemplated shattered illusions. Her perception of the world had undergone several radical shifts, of which Elysium was not the first. She had, with the aid of a biased military education system, grown into a confused and bigoted teen. It was just her luck that her personal first-contact came in the shapely form of a beautiful, and '_promiscuous'_, asari, and that her semi-repressed lesbian brain had found the possibilities impossible to resist. She had used poor judgement, but the ignorance she had learned from her teachers enabled her as much as youth and hormones.

There was always so much to know, to learn. Schools, she realized, were not simply places of learning, but of indoctrination and—aside from a few outliers—human xeno-sociologists produced views of alien cultures distorted by pro-human ideology. That revelation had prompted her to leave Alliance space, stowed away on a freighter to the Citadel. She had immersed herself in alien cultures for four years, travelled the stars, and learned to make judgements for herself. The difference between what she was taught and what she experienced was subtle, but instructive. She had come so close to another life entirely, before she finally resolved to join the military, a decision which she found difficult to understand, but ten years and Elysium stood between her and her younger self.

Tali stood, pacing halfway across the room before turning. "You _are_ a person. A good person, who would risk her life to save a quarian she didn't even know. Forgive me, Kara, but I don't believe you."

"Tali, the Council has other Spectres. I'm sure one of them could track down Saren. There was no one else to stop those mercenaries." She wondered if the young quarian could read her well enough to see how conflicted she actually felt. If anyone had asked her to fight a war, she would have walked away without question; she refused to kill for the benefit of an elite few. Would stopping Saren be any different? She had only hints of his agenda, most of them drawn from a hazy, half-remembered vision, the rest asserted by Anderson, distorted by bitterness towards the rogue Spectre. "Someone else can play the hero this time."

"You're really going to walk away? Let the galaxy burn, so you can feel all righteous?" Irritation, or anger? Her dimly glowing eyes were narrowed and glaring.

"It's not that simple," Kara sighed. Not than anything ever was. "It's about principals, and when to make a stand. We'll never run out of crises to be solved, each more dire than the last, each new enemy more irredeemably evil. I've seen it happen before, and know what it can justify. No, I'm going to walk away. I've every faith the galaxy will manage without me."

"You're really willing to risk being wrong?"

And letting the Galaxy burn? Kara sighed again. Tali was right, and even if it failed to make her indispensable, she had to accept that the vision might be more important than she liked to admit. It was so easy for a person to see what they wanted, and to disregard the rest. It made sense to send her after Saren, and she did not want to acknowledge it, but she refused to shy away from uncomfortable truths. "I'll take the mission, Tali, _if_ the Council asks me to, but you're still not coming along."

"I lost a friend to that bosh'tet turian already, Kara," the quarian snapped, "or did you forget? He didn't deserve to die like that."

Keenah'Breizh, the other pilgrim, whom CSec had found dead in the wards. Tali had already informed CSec that he was dead, after walking into a trap she had set in one of the station's many recycling centers. That had been self defense, an unfortunate necessity, and not something she would be prosecuted for. Chasing Saren was an act of revenge, both harmful to the individual and counterproductive on a larger scale, and Kara had no intention of facilitating the young quarian in hers.

"You can't ask me to let this go, Kara," Tali continued, possibly with a triumphant, though invisible, smile. "I'm supposed to be out here proving my worth, remember?"

Kara sighed. It wasn't that she doubted Tali's value, both as a technician and a soldier, or that she had any cause to question the quarian's motive. She saw a little of her own coming of age in the pilgrimage tradition, and hoped, futilely she knew, that her words might make a different path more appealing. She also remembered the willfulness of youth, and in the end, Tale had the right to make that choice herself. "Very well."

* * *

Kara arrived at the base of the Presidium Tower a comfortable few minutes before the Council had scheduled their meeting. Tali, also summoned, had come with her, looking around with more than a little awe. The necessities of quarian existence did not grant them much space, or much access to luxury, and the Presidium had both in abundance.

"You remember our agreement, right?" Tali asked, softly, as the lift carried them inward.

"Of course," Kara stated. She remembered, and regretted it.

"Hey, where's your ambassador, um, Udina?"

That was actually an astute question. Normal protocol would be for the Council to contact the ambassador, and for him to notify her, but that was potentially negated if they were still considering her for Spectre. It suggested he wouldn't even be present at this meeting, which she considered a relief. "I don't know."

"Aren't you nervous? I can't imagine why they want to talk to me. It isn't like I know anything more."

Kara shook her head. She rarely got nervous, not anymore, and what apprehension she felt had more to do with wanting to avoid Spectre status than anything else. "They may want to thank you." She also had to consider the possibility that Tali's evidence was falsified.

"Oh. Uh, that didn't help. Has anyone ever told you that you're not very talkative?"

"Frequently," she smiled. "I'm sorry, Tali. I'm a little distracted, but if it'll help, we can talk about whatever you'd like."

This, as the lift came to a halt. It had taken them five kilometers from the ring of Presidium to the tower, at the center of the ring, and from began moving towards its pinnacle, where the Tower Court located. The door slid open on a dimly lit hall, half a kilometer in length. "I want to know more about you. I mean, I saw your public record, how is it you know so much about my people?"

Because she'd met another pilgrim, years ago, and they'd been close for a time. Before she moved on. "There's plenty of information on your people in the Citadel public database," Kara said. "Pre- and post-exile. Studying alien cultures is a hobby of mine."

"Oh," Tali said, sounding disappointed.

"You were expecting excitement and adventure?" Kara replied, smiling softly. The truth was neither.

"Yes. I guess," the Qurian shrugged. "You feel like someone with stories to tell."

The lift came to a rapid halt, the door opening onto the wide Tower Court, which climbed by park-like terraces, up to the Petitioner's Terrace, at the top. Unlike the wards, the tower didn't rotate, its gravity generated by mass effect fields and not centrifugal force.

"Hey, there's Garrus," the Quarian said, pointing out a turian in a CSec uniform, who had just turned towards them. He was standing next to a round fountain, pale beams of light emerging from the pool, and converging at the peak of the column of water. "Garrus!"

"Miss Tali'Zorah," he said, nodding politely. "Commander Shepard. The lab report came in a couple of hours ago, confirming that the recordings are authentic. Now it's just a question of what the Council will do about it."

Actually, the solution was obvious. Granting her Spectre status and sending her after Saren would do much to appease the Alliance. If she succeeded, her victory would bring publicity, and reflect well on her species. If she didn't, they could always send someone else. Kara did not intend to allow herself to be used in such a matter, though she wasn't sure how she could stop it.

"Make Kara a Spectre, and send her after Saren," Tali said confidently.

"Wait, so that's what you meant when you said they were testing you?" Garrus asked, shaking his head at the realization. "I take it they don't know about you and krogan-tossing?"

Kara shrugged. She had been careful to conceal the extent of her biotic abilities from the Alliance, to protect the reason for the change, but that was no business of his. "We shouldn't keep the Council waiting."

"Yeah," Garrus agreed. "This way."

Of course, the Council held its audiences on the highest terrace, after three levels, broken into secluded areas by red-leaved trees from the asari homeworld of Thessia. The turian led them upward, and finally out over the Petitioner's Bridge, lit from below by dim light that filtered up through the branches of more red trees in an isolated arboretum.

On a balcony overlooking them, the Council waited. The gap between the bridge and their position, the elevation, all served to stress the importance of the councillors. Contrary to that impression, they had limited power to rule on the internal affairs of its member species, their domain being primarily interspecies relations.

"Commander Shepard," began Sparatus, his face held high as he spoke. Looking down his nose at her, it seemed. "The evidence supplied by the Quarian Tali'Zorah has been verified by our best forensic experts. It cannot be refuted. Saren has been stripped of his Spectre status, and all efforts will be made to bring him in to answer for his crimes."

"The other voice belongs to matriach Benezia T'Soni," Tevos added, her calm voice not entirely hiding her concern. "She was a strong and influential voice within the Republic, until she disappeared over a year ago, along with many of her supporters. We are making efforts to understand her motives, but she left very little behind."

"Commander, your report from Eden Prime states that you received a vision from the prothean beacon you retrieved," said Valern. "The geth module contained scraps of information about these 'Reapers'. Did the beacon provide you with any insight?"

"No," Kara shook her head, brushing her fingers through her hair as she did. Her memory had fully returned, but the gaps in the vision remained. "There's too much missing. The best way to find out more would be to go after Saren; if these Reapers are real, he's working for them."

"Commander," Tevos inquired, sounding almost amused, "are you volunteering?"

"No!" Sparatus' angry statement mirrored Kara's thoughts. He turned towards Tevos. "We've discussed this. Humanity is not ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres."

"Councillor," Kara said irritably, interrupting Tevos' response. "I am not humanity. If you wish to dismiss me, do so for my own flaws, not those of my species."

Behind her, Tali whispered to Garrus; "Didn't I tell you?"

On the balcony, Tevos turned to Valern, who nodded at her. "It is our judgement, Varrus," she said, turning back to the turian, "That Kara Shepard is prepared for the rights and responsibilities of the Spectres."

His mandibles flaring irritably, Sparatus nodded his ascent.

"Commander Shepard," Tevos said. "Step forward."

* * *

Kara was uncertain what to do. Difficult decisions were a part of any officer's life, but this one had consequences beyond anything she had faced before. She was a Spectre now, and had taken an oath before the Council to enforce their judgement, and to protect galactic stability. It was a vague job description, consistent with the role of an independent agent. Outside the law, and out of sight.

She paused in her walk, leaning against a railing that overlooked a small plaza. Below, a trio of musicians stood with their backs against a small flower garden, two salarians and an asari, playing a tune that seamed to interweave elements of both worlds' musical traditions. Closed her eyes, and just listened, allowing the tune to clear her thoughts.

The question was, what did being a Spectre mean to Kara Shepard? Where did she go from here? To catch Saren, she would need resources; intelligence, which the Council had agreed to provide through the Salarian Union's Special Tasks Group. A ship and crew, for which she had her eye on the _Normandy_. Its stealth capabilities would be invaluable, given the dangers of the mission, and she knew the Alliance could be persuaded to turn it over. So long as she cooperated.

That would probably mean agreeing to accept orders through the chain of command, even though she was now legally outside of it, and allowing the Naval Recruiting Office to use her in its advertisements. Granted that, once she was away, censuring her would be difficult, but the principal of it mattered. She didn't like making promises that she didn't intend to keep, and she had no intention of abusing her newfound authority to benefit a corrupt and expansionist human government.

The proper thing to do would be to resign her commission. Udina might still be persuaded to allow her use of the _Normandy_, if she were polite about it, though it would still be conditional. That was not an improvement; her issue was with whose orders she followed, not whether she wore the uniform. She needed something more drastic, that couldn't be ignored or explained away as a formality. Something that would unquestionably divorce her from eight years as a marine, and all the assumptions that created about a person.

Sighing, she returned her attention to the music. The piece was nearing its end, point and counterpoint seeming to deconstruct each other. Picking apart the instances that had bound them together, until the whole thing collapsed into a lingering silence. It had been well-performed, so she checked her omnitool, searching for an electronic tip-jar.

It was easy enough to find, and she passed a hundred credits into the account. Her officer's income of eighty-three thousand five hundred credits a year had just been supplemented by a two hundred and forty-five thousand a year paid to Spectres, along with a generous expense account. It was a more than comfortable income, certainly more than she needed, but she wondered if it would stretch to fit her third option; commandeering the _Normandy_.

It had occurred to her on the Petitioner's Bridge, even as she spoke her oath, but she had dismissed it at the time. Like any good idea, though, she found that it grew on her. It wouldn't be easy, either to talk the crew into joining her, or to pursue her mission. She would have far fewer resources at her disposal, though the Defense Committee would probably agree not to send ship after her.

She was less certain about the Council. According to the overview she had studied, Spectres could request and expect to receive military assistance, including temporary use of a warship, at need—that is, without using formal diplomatic channels, with all the delays that represented. She did not expect them to be pleased, but they would agree that she had the right. If they gave her approval, it would drive a wedge between them and the Alliance. If they censured her, it would undercut her authority.

She sighed, and resumed her wandering. No matter how much she liked the idea, she knew it was not a decision to make lightly. The consequences could be far-reaching, potentially even splitting the Alliance from the Council altogether. She doubted that even Parliament would be that idiotic, however, as the navy would have to overextended itself in an attempt to secure now-friendly borders, leaving the already vulnerable colonies in the Attican Traverse open to full-scale assault, of the type that hadn't happened since the Skyllian Blitz.

Anyway, she could only be responsible for her own actions, and the lives of those who followed her. That was burden enough without trying to guess how the Alliance's ruling elite might respond to her. If she had less distaste for vigilanteism, she would have seriously considered bringing retribution down on some of them, for crimes they had committed, excused, or covered up.

No, she had already decided to limit her efforts to defeating Saren. She was not going to allow herself to become him.

Coming around a corner, Kara found herself facing a large, and heavily armored, krogan, aiming a pistol squarely at her head. She reacted instantly, using her biotics to drive a kick that sent his weapon spinning down the corridor. "What's this about?" she asked, as she settled into defensive stance. She knew she wasn't going to beat him with her bare fists, so she would have to go for the pistol.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't answer, but threw himself at her with a wild roar. She let him come, falling back when they connected, and using her biotics and his own momentum, managed to throw him a good few meters.

She ran at him, but he recovered quickly enough to block her first punch, though he took the second across the jaw. Even with biotic enhancement, it was little more than an annoyance, and she barely managed to duck his retaliatory strike. His biotic attack took her by surprise, sending her flying backwards, but she managed to free herself, and mute her impact with the floor, only to find the krogan rushing towards her with an enthusiastic roar.

She only just had time enough to dodge him, and he swung at her, slamming her against the wall without enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. She found herself gasping for air, and almost took a blow to the chest that might have crushed her. His fist hit the wall, instead, and she grabbed his arm, wrenching it up behind him.

Reducing his mass as much as she dared, Kara drove the krogan forward with all her strength. In the last instant, she reversed the field, slamming him into the wall with as much momentum as she could give him. As he staggered, dazed by the impact, she used her biotics to pull the discarded pistol into her hand, and aimed it at his head. The weapon was within his kinetic barriers, and was certainly powerful enough to rip through his brain. "Explain yourself," she demanded, as calmly as one could while still gasping for breath.

"Peace, Shepard," the krogan grunted. "No one sent me. I just wanted to see if you lived up to your reputation. You're pretty good for a puny human."

Kara raised a skeptical eyebrow, but, now that she had a chance to study him, she wondered if it might be true. He looked old, perhaps three or four hundred years, and sported several faded scars on his long face. He'd already had an opportunity to kill her, and let it pass. "Oh?"

"I was hired to kill Fist," he continued, "but I hear you got to him first."

"He's not dead," Kara noted. She hadn't actually hurt him at all, though Garrus had gone back later with a CSec team, and arrested him for conspiracy to commit murder.

"Dead, locked up," the krogan shrugged. "Whatever. Blasting him would have been more fun, but at least he's out of the way. My employer is satisfied, and since you did it, I figure you should get the reward."

She lowered the pistol, aiming a look of contempt at him instead. "Keep it."

"What, you don't like money?"

"No," she told him flatly, "and I don't like you."

The krogan laughed. "Well, I like you, Shepard. The name's Urdnot Wrex. Are you really going after Saren?"

Kara didn't answer. It wasn't really his business.

"I'd like to come along. A rogue Spectre is sure to put up a good fight."

She already had Tali to worry about, and Garrus had someone inserted himself into the mission as well. Adding a bloodthirsty krogan mercenary to her crew hardly seemed like a good idea. To start with, she despised his profession. Killing for a cause was often dubious enough, but to kill for money only served to protect the power and prestige of those who were already rich. Even if she did need his help, she didn't want it. "No."

Wrex's red eyes stared at her, uncertainly. Whatever answer he had expected from her, that was not it, and it took him aback. "… that's it?"

She flipped the pistol over in her hand, and offered it to him grip-first. "Yes."

"You don't have to like me, Shepard," the krogan said, taking the weapon, "but I've been a battlemaster since before your species made it into space. I know violence. You need me."

Maybe. If she did commandeer the _Normandy_, she could find herself short most on crew and marines, and a krogan battlemaster was not something to be dismissed lightly. It was at least worth considering. "I think about it," she said flatly, and turned her back on him.

She would see how things went, over the next day or so, she decided, as she walked away. If necessary, she could contact him then.

* * *

"Commander Shepard, it was inappropriate of you to meet with the Council without my presence," Ambassador Udina insisted.

Kara shrugged. "If they had desired your presence, they certainly would have requested it. They did not. Since you do not represent me, and I do not represent humanity, I saw no reason to object."

"_I_ represent human interests before the Council, Shepard. _I_ decide if my presence is required. If you can't accept that, a transfer to a less demanding post could be arranged."

"Not by you," Kara answered flatly. She was an agent of the Council, now and did not answer to the likes of Donnel Udina.

"What's going on, Shepard?" Anderson asked.

"I'm resigning from the Alliance Navy," she said, turning her attention to him. "The Council accepted our evidence. Saren has been declared renegade, and I've been assigned to hunt him down."

Udina crossed his arms across his chest, scowling at her. "They made _you_ a Spectre?"

He made it sound like an accusation, but he had been as much for it as anyone. Apparently, a human Spectre was only an achievement when they served the Alliance first. "Yes," Kara said, smiling at him. She turned her attention back to Anderson, who had yet to voice his objections. Them, at least, she could understand, even without hearing them. "I just took an oath to the Council. I believe my obligations as an officer in the Alliance conflict with it. I have to do this."

"How do you plan on going after Saren, Shepard? You'll need a ship and crew."

She met his gaze calmly, confidently. He was far more capable of resisting her than Udina, if it came down to it, and she felt it was him she needed to convince. "I'll take _Normandy_."

"That's completely unacceptable, Miss Shepard," Udina declared. "If you remained with the Alliance, you could-"

"Captain, you know this is necessary. It's the best ship for the job, it's available, and I'm already familiar with it." She didn't think it wise to imply that she'd consider taking it without consent. At least, not yet. "Besides, as a Spectre, I have a right to your cooperation."

Anderson didn't have the authority to give her the ship, as they both knew, but his chance of gaining Udina's support was much higher than hers. He nodded slightly. "Ambassador, Shepard is right. We need her, and not just to stop Saren. She's still the symbol we wanted, if not the one we expected."

She was already a heroine; now they wanted to turn her into a figurehead. The prospect was not appealing. Commandeering the _Normandy_ would neatly derail that possibility.

"We can't just give her the _Normandy_. Most of its systems are still classified. If she were still an Alliance officer, then there wouldn't be a problem, but I can't turn her over to a civilian."

"She's not a civilian, she's a Spectre, and the _Normandy_ is just what she needs."

"We should have locked her in the brig, not recommended her for Spectre. Have you read her file, Captain? Insubordination, mutiny—"

"She's also a good tactical thinker, and she doesn't give up. Whatever Saren's up to, she's our only hope—"

Kara stood abruptly. "Excuse me. I have a mission to prepare for." _She's our only hope._ Tali had basically said the same thing, but it was such a horrid thought, a cliché dragged out for cheap drama. The was always another solution, if one took the time to look. Still, she was committed to her path, now, and she quickly left the room, before the two men could object.

* * *

_AN: I really didn't intend to do this again, but... another split chapter. After adding another fifteen hundred words, it seemed like the right thing to do. Wrex got a proper introduction out of it, and I really felt that the decision to commandeer the Normandy came out of nowhere before._

_Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the improvements. See you next time._


	5. Subversion

CHAPTER FIVE  
_Subversion_

"Commander Adams," Kara said, as she crossed the _Normandy_'s lower engineering deck. "Do you have a moment?"

The ship's chief engineer, a quite man, somewhere in his mid forties, turned to face her. "Certainly, sir. Ah, who's your… quarian friend?"

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," Tali volunteered, holding out her hand, anticipating the ritual. She had gone through it three times already, since coming on board.

"Gregory Adams," the officer said, accepting the handshake. "So, you're getting the tour?"

"Tali will be helping track down Saren," Kara told him.

The quarian nodded. "It's a pretty amazing design. I had no idea that humans were so advanced."

"It's not all us," Adams said, enthusiasm for the topic spreading a natural smile across his lips. "We worked with the turians on the design, and much of the technology is theirs, with some human ingenuity thrown in. Neither one of us could have come up with her on our own, but together… you see our mass effect core?"

It was difficult to miss, a dark sphere nearly twenty-meters across, which did a good job of filling the rear section of the hull. "Yes?"

"The _Tantalus_ eezo core is twice of volume of the usual core for a ship this size. The result is a boost of almost fifty percent to our maximum FTL speed, but the real innovation is in the control circuitry. The core is actually capable of generating a singularity with sufficient mass to accelerate the _Normandy_ at nearly the same rate as hydrogen/oxygen thrusters. Since it can be generated at any position within two hundred meters of the core, it doesn't suffer from the usual vector limitations, either."

"Isn't static buildup an issue?" Tali asked, to the delight of the engineer.

"Well, yes, but the team came up with some innovations on that front, as well. You see, we, uh," he said, trailing off suddenly. "Ah, ma'am?"

"Go on," Kara said, returning her wandering attention to the pair. Aside from having gotten the same tour when she'd come aboard, she had studied the _Normandy_'s specifications in detail, and knew what the ship was theoretically capable of. "Come find me when you're done here, Tali."

"Sure, Kara," the quarian said, nodding briefly, before turning her attention back to the chief engineer.

Kara shook her head and retreated, as they resumed their conversation. She didn't entirely like using Tali, but an engineering crew was more essential to running the ship than just about anyone else, and the quarian's innocent enthusiasm might be enough to shift the balance in her favor. Her plan was to push as much as she could, before announcing her intentions. Hopefully, they'd be gone in eight hours. If not, she expected to end up in a cell.

The hatch from the engineering section opened onto the cargo deck. On the port side was the lift to the crew deck, and forward of that the armory. To the starboard was the training and exercise room, and at the front of the deck, the cargo hold. She had a short list of known allies, at present, and she would start with the most certain of them. She checked the training room, first. Ashley Williams was using the VR firing range, at the forward end of the room, firing a training rifle at targets on she could see, but the sound of the door opening interrupted her, and she turned.

"Hey, Commander."

"Ash," Kara nodded, moving further into the room. Williams wasn't a likely recruit to her cause, but that didn't matter. "How are you doing?"

Ashley sighed, setting the rifle on the table next to the VR equipment locker, and taking off the headset. "It's been two weeks, sir. I'm recovered."

"Good," Kara said. She didn't believe it, though the marine had shown all the proper stoicism. "I know the news hasn't come down yet, but the Council and has sent me after Saren, and I'd like to have you on my team."

"They made you a Spectre?" Ashley asked, clearly surprised. Given her racial attitudes, she had probably assumed that the Council would never choose a human for the role. "Congratulations, sir. I can't think of anyone better for the job. It'd be an honor to fight alongside you."

An honor? That assessment would no doubt change, when she found out what Kara had planned. "Ash, my first duty is to serve the Council. I no longer answer to the Alliance. If you have a problem with that, or with serving alongside non-humans, I need to hear about it now."

Williams raised her chin in defiance. "But sir, you _are_ human—"

"Which has never stopped me from doing what I believed to be right," she said flatly. Spectres were intended to rise above the petty differences that separated not just species, but the ethnic and religious groups within them. "If that's a problem, I'll arrange for your transfer to another ship."

"That's not necessary, sir," the marine sighed. Her attitude, Kara suspected, arose from the same cause as her stunted career. Twenty-four years ago, when first contact with a turian fleet had resulted in the First Contact war, Ashley's grandfather had been in command of the garrison on the colony world of Shanxi.

When the turians had driven off defensive fleet and landed troops on the planet, General Aral Williams had done his best to fight them. Cut off from resupply, outnumber, and faced with ruthless bombardment from the enemy fleet, he had surrendered the garrison to protect both his troops and the civilian colonists. Soon after, the Alliance fleet had returned in force, and drove the turians from the system, followed by an armistice that had ended the war.

The decision, despite being correct, effectively ended Aral's career. He was shuffled off to a minor post, and resigned soon after. His son, an enlisted crewman just out of basic training, had suffered as well, never receiving the promotion that his service record warranted.

"I know it isn't what you're used to hearing, Ash, but your grandfather made the right choice. He chose to save lives, rather than to keep fighting a battle he knew he couldn't win."

The young marine paled. "You know?"

"The turians aren't responsible for your career, and they didn't force your grandfather to resign," Kara said, laying her hand on Ashley's arm.

"I suppose you're right," the woman sighed. "I remember how frustrated my father was, but he always thought that if he just did better… it was never enough, though. You must think me a special kind of stupid, joining an organization that had me blacklisted."

Kara shook her head. Ash's desire to prove herself, in defiance of prejudice, was no more foolish than her own reason for signing up. "I'm not sure I can help you clear your name, Ash, but you will get a chance to prove yourself."

"I intend to be ready for it," the marine said, retrieving her training rifle. The clear defiance in her eyes said more about what she felt than her words, that she hadn't been ready for what they'd faced on Eden Prime. No one was ever ready for their first fight.

Kara doubted that. With her family history, Ashley wouldn't dare to defy the Alliance, or do anything to risk another mark against the Williams' name. "I'm sure you will be. Have you seen Sayuri?"

"Chief Aoki? She was here earlier, Commander," the woman said, slipping the headset back over her ear. "I think she's back with the Mako. Is it true that she served under you on Torfan?"

"Yes," Kara said, nodding shortly as she turned away. It was a tale that Sayuri probably told to anyone who asked, with plenty of embellishments. As much as it annoyed her, any attempt to tell the truth was probably futile.

It also occurred to her that the lie might be beneficial. Her actually deeds had carried more risk of court martial than death, but a true heroine was more likely to rally enough of the crew to behind her cause to take control of the ship. Maybe, over the course of the mission, they would come to see her as a person.

Back in the corridor, Kara turned to the cargo bay, where the Mako was stored, pressing the access panel for the hatch. The forward ramp was currently lowered, allowing access to one of the Citadel loading docks leased by the Alliance. New supplies had already been laid in, replacements for those consumed on the mission to Eden Prime. That was another complication—rations would be easy to come by, and she could manage some basic spare parts for the _Normandy_'s systems, but its prototype systems would have to hold out, and they could—for a few months, at least.

She approached the Mako, clamped in its place on the starboard side of the bay. Its hatch was open, and she climbed inside. Bright light and fake engine noises came from the driver's compartment, an indication that someone was running the vehicle's onboard training program. She looked through the door in time to see the driver perform a nauseating roll, done to avoid a virtual rocket. "I see you've been practicing."

"Yeah," Sayuri replied, not even looking away from the digital viewports as Kara sat in the copilot's chair. Through the Alliance's training simulators were not accurate depictions of combat, they did demand focus. A steady—and increasing—amount of virtual ordinance was being fired at them. As she used the Mako's thrusters to jump over an enemy tank, the vehicle's supply of liquid hydrogen ran out, an indicator on display flashing red. The remnants were enough to stabilize their pitch, and they landed roughly, but upright.

Sayuri shut down the program as the simulated Mako rolled to a stop, the view screens going dark as the cabin lights came up. "It's an impressive machine," she said, turning her chair to face Kara's. "A fine replacement for the Grizzly. If only it had—"

"—More speed," Kara finished.

"Yeah," the marine grinned. Kara agreed, even if her stomach didn't. The Alliance did not currently maintain a class of fast tanks, preferring gunships for the role. They were partially suitable, and more flexible, but the modern A61 Mantis required more cargo space than a frigate could spare. Without ground support, it also tended to be a flying target. "Now, I _know_ you didn't come down here to watch me train."

"No," Kara said, smiling briefly. "I need your help. We're going to commandeer the _Normandy_."

Sayuri's grey eyes widened. "Shit, really? Kara, I—" she stopped, laughing softly. "You know, I should have guessed. Would this make me Spectre Shepard's sidekick?"

"I don't think so," Kara sighed, doing her best to hide her annoyance. Superheroes had sidekicks, and she certainly wasn't one of those. "Just a part of her crew, if you're willing."

The marine grinned. "What, I only rate groupie? Well, you're sure as hell not going to leave me behind. What is it you need?"

"You know me better than anyone on this ship," Kara admitted.

"That's not saying much," Sayuri said, "but I get where this is going. You want me to help bring the others around."

"Yes."

Sayuri frowned, running her fingers along the dark status board. "Tell me there isn't a better way."

There was always a better way, but—as far as she could see—this was it. "It's the best I can think of." She wasn't sure if it was an endorsement or an apology, but at least it was honest. Of course she couldn't see all ends, but she could anticipate some of the fallout. None of it was too drastic, and all of it could be avoided by some sensible politics from the Alliance. Belligerence was more likely, and the consequences would be born by the usual powerless groups, with the only comfort being that the alternatives were no better, and that something positive might come of her resistance.

"Woah," the marine grinned, not impressed by Kara's response, but she straightened, setting her shoulders firmly. "I'll tell some tales, when I get the chance."

Kara stood, hunching over in the cramped cabin, and laid her hand on Sayuri's shoulder. "Thank you," she smiled. "I want to leave before the end of the day. I know it isn't much time."

"Oh, I bet the mess'll be full of people spinning rumors about your new job," the marine smirked. "I couldn't wish for a more perfect audience."

"Yes, and I'll be nearby," Kara reminded her, "so try not to get too fantastical."

Sayuri clasped her hands to her chest, a compliment to her wounded expression. "Oh, sir, how could you! I'd never lie about how you fought off fifty… no, five hundred berserker pirates with your bare hands, while—"

"No," Kara interrupted dryly. Five poorly trained pirates would be more accurate, and she had taken them by surprise, so it wasn't really much of a feat. "I'm sure you wouldn't."

"Don't worry, sir," the woman said, grinning again. "It'll be drama, not action-adventure."

Kara nodded. There had been plenty of both on Torfan, and Sayuri was intelligent enough to put across the right message. "Good. I'd better get going."

"Yeah, okay," Sayuri said, letting her chair swivel back to its forward-facing position, restarting the simulator as Kara disembarked.

Garrus was probably the next person she needed to talk to, Kara thought, as she made her way out of the cargo hold. She also needed to make a final decision about the krogan, Urdnot Wrex. If she could settle the issue of trust, he would make for a powerful addition to the team. She might need him, if she could not get the support of enough of the _Normandy_'s marine compliment. He might also be under the employ of Saren, and sent to keep an eye on her.

She sighed, as she touched the lift control and waited for the door to open. Normally, she preferred to trust people by default, and give them space to prove themselves, and at least with Garrus and Tali, she understood their motives. If not money, then the challenge and thrill of combat was all Wrex cared about, and she could expect no loyalty.

"Kara?"

She turned towards the source of the voice and smiled. "How was the tour, Tali?"

"Quite interesting," the quarian said. "Do you think I could help out in Engineering? Between missions, of course. I asked Greg, but he said I needed permission from his commander, which I guess is you now. Right?"

Kara gestured that Tali should enter the lift, then followed her in. "That's something I wanted to talk to you about," she said, waiting for the brief trip to the crew deck to complete before she continued. "The admiralty won't want a quarian working with classified technology."

"That's a 'no,' then," Tali muttered, following her out of the lift and up the stairs. "Kara, I helped maintain the Rayya since I was old enough to walk. You can't just expect me to sit around and wait while we travel."

"I don't," Kara said, leading the quarian into the briefing room, before turning around. "I'm commandeering the ship."

"What?" Tali gasped, her eyes grown wide behind her mask. "Steal a ship? My father would kill me."

"Not steal," Kara corrected. The distinction was important. "As an agent of the Council, I have the authority, but I expect resistance. I'm going to need your help."

Tali sank into the nearest chair, slumping a little, and shook her head. "I don't know…"

Kara sighed, sitting beside her. "I'm risking everything on the chance I can pull this off, and it won't be easy. It is important to me, though."

The young quarian straightened, at that assertion. "What… what is it you need, exactly?"

"For now, just get to know the crew," Kara said. She didn't expect much to come of it, but Tali could be disarming, and relentless. "Things could get tense, after I make the announcement. I'd rather you stayed out of it."

"I don't need to be protected," Tali growled, her eyes narrowing. "I told you I want to help."

Kara found herself smiling. The young were always so eager, and usually for the wrong things. Hers had been a lust for life, which had somehow become a desire to serve. Even then, she had not really felt the need to prove herself to anyone. The quarian's pilgrimage tradition was based on proving themselves to authority figures, though.

"I know," Kara said. The problem was, Tali now looked to her for approval. She had made an impression, just like with Sayuri, and now had to deal with the consequences. "If this is going to be my ship, Tali, it's my job to look out for the crew. You included."

Tali's expression didn't change, at least so far as Kara could see. Finally, she nodded. "I understand. In the Flotilla, a captain's most important duty is to protect the lives of their crew, but sometimes they have to risk a few to save the rest."

In truth, she had need of trusted allies if she expected to take control of the ship. "All right," she decided. "After the announcement, arm yourself and come to the crew deck."

"Sure," the quarian agreed. "I can do that. I guess I'll go back to Engineering, and talk to Greg again."

Kara nodded. They hadn't spoken enough, but Adams had seemed like a man who cared about the people under his command. If he accepted Tali, and was willing to stay to protect her, much of his staff might also stay. "I'll see you later, Tali," she said, as a polite dismissal.

As the quarian departed, Kara walked over to the control console, and entered the comm-code Garrus had given her. After a few moments, the turian's image appeared on the small display.

"Shepard. Is it time?"

"Not yet," Kara said. "Did you speak to your friends at Citadel Control?"

"Yeah," the eturi replied. "They had some reservations, but we'll be free to go. How's your end?"

There was no clear answer to that. "Still in progress," she told him. "More time would be nice. I could use some information on a krogan, Urdnot Wrex."

"You're in luck. I got a tip that someone, maybe Saren, had hired him to kill someone. This was just after Tali'Zorah arrived. I thought maybe he was after her, but it turns out Fist was his target."

He had mentioned that, but it wasn't what she needed to know, either. "Anything else?"

"Not really. He does most mercenary work, and the occasional bounty," Garrus said, his eyes moving as though he was scanning records as he spoke. "There's no breach of contract complaints or criminal convictions on record. Sounds like he keeps to himself… but this is interesting. He was reported fighting with someone in the wards last night… an unidentified human female, red hair, civilian clothes. You have something you want to tell me, Shepard?"

"He offered to help hunt down Saren," Kara replied. "I didn't commit myself."

"Tossing Dovar about was impressive enough, but you took on an armored krogan in hand-to-hand combat? And won?"

"Did I?" Kara snapped, annoyed by the approval in his tone. "Garrus, I just need to know if I can trust him."

The eturi's mandibles flexed, thoughtfully. "I don't know. I don't think he's working for Saren."

It was, she guessed, the best she could ask for. It sounded as though he had more discipline than the average krogan mercenary. In the end, she decided, she needed the extra support. "Contact him," she said, "and bring him here as soon as possible. I'll make sure you're both cleared for access."

"Got it, Shepard," Garrus nodded, giving her a turian salute before signing off.

Kara ran her fingers through her hair, and sighed. She was beginning to feel tired, but she didn't have time to rest. Not until they were underway.

She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and tried to clear her thoughts. She wished she had half an hour to practice _vanan ithal_, one of the basic forms of asari martial arts. It helped her focus, and that was important right now.

If only she had the time.

* * *

Kara had expected a confrontation with Captain Anderson, though it could have come at a better time. If he was as good as his reputation claimed, he must have suspected her intentions even before she issued the order to recall the crew. There weren't that many other choices, on the path she had taken.

"You certainly have a talent for making a mess of things," the greying officer said wearily, standing over her seat in the briefing room's circle of chairs. "Couldn't you have sent your resignation in _after_ you were clear of Citadel space?"

"No," Kara said. She kept her posture straight, and her gaze firm. Confident and indomitable—a well-practiced show of defiance. "Forcing the choice on them was the point."

Anderson snorted. "Ambassador Udina is furious with you, Commander, and rightly so. The bass won't let you have the ship, but they can't take the matter to the Council without looking like fools. How the hell are we supposed to explain to them that, after twenty years of pushing for a human Spectre, we already want you recalled?"

"With humility," Kara suggested, though she wasn't sure that Udina was capable of expressing it. How else did one admit to a mistake—to effectively admit that what the Alliance had wanted all along was not a human Spectre, but a loyalist one.

"That would be sound advice, but I doubt the Ambassador is interested in hearing it," the captain sighed, walking to a chair on the far side of the circle, and sitting heavily. "You might try taking it yourself."

Kara frowned at the man. If trusting her own judgement was arrogance, then she was certainly guilty of it.

Sighing heavily, Anderson rubbed his face with his hand. "The irony is," he began, "you haven't left us with much choice. Saren's a thug, and you're the only person that can stop him—and show the galaxy what humanity is capable of."

And there it was again, the assertion that she was somehow indispensable, paired with the absurd notion that she was a paragon of her species. Certain she expected Alliance spokespeople to dispute the later, with help from the major news networks, but they might grudgingly accept the former. "Then let me stop him."

"You really think you can pull this off?" Anderson asked.

"I will," Kara stated firmly. An officer needed to present the appearance of confidence to her subordinates, according to her training. She knew well enough that innumerable failures could be hidden beneath a façade of confidence, sometimes from the very people whom they most effected.

Did Anderson see her uncertainty? Her doubts? Did he see her as a petulant child, demanding her own way, or did he understand? He didn't know her, not really. They had talked, but she had not been forthcoming. He had read her service record, which said even less than his. That left him with intuition, and whatever he could read from her expression.

Her instincts said he would fold. If she was indispensable, then he had no other choice. "You understand that I can't help you, Commander. My orders have already come down. What I can do is… see to some business on the Citadel. If the _Normandy_ was gone before I got back…"

Then he would be blameless? Only that wasn't how it worked. He was ultimately responsible for the actions of his crew, and that including her. Even though he was considered a hero of the Alliance, walking away would end his career. Ironic, considering that he was a far more model officer than her. "You know that won't—"

A beep from the internal comm system cut her off. The soft voice of one of the ship's operations officers—Lieutenant Alex Mifsud, she guessed—followed it closely. "Commander, there's a young woman on the line," said a soft male voice. Lieutenant Alex Mifsud, she guessed. "She says you're expecting her call."

"Put her through," Kara replied, taking care to shut down the internal comm before turning her gaze back on her former captain. "This is private business. Excuse me."

Anderson looked surprised, his slight frown hinting at offense, as he stared back at her. Yes, she was dismissing him, and without apology. "Fine, Commander," he sighed, his irritation faded into a resigned expression as he stood. "I'll leave you to it."

Over the years, Kara had gotten a mixed reaction from most of her COs. She hadn't made things easy for them, always doing things her own way, defying protocol and expectations. She couldn't help but wonder if the Councillors would be giving her same look in the coming weeks.

She put the thought out of her head when the door sealed, shutting the captain out, and walked over to sit in front of the console. She checked to make sure the call was what she expected, before accepting it. The face of a young asian woman appeared on the screen. Her attention had wandered during the wait, but refocused on the screen as soon as Kara spoke. "Emily Wong?"

"Yes," the woman began, though her brow scrunched in confusion. "You're Commander Shepard?"

That doubt had a source other than mere uncertainty, after wading through several layers of naval security protocols. Seven years ago, she must have been somewhere in her early teens, young enough to be impressed by the Heroine of Elysium's speech accepting the Star of Terra. Not the real one, of course, but the patriotic fake put out by the Alliance. "That's right."

"Huh," Emily said, biting her lip briefly as she stared at her own display, somewhere on the Citadel. "That must be an interesting story."

"Not compared to the one I'm offering you," Kara replied, smiling warmly. "Have you heard the name 'Fist' recently?"

The young woman nodded. "My editor has been pushing us for a scoop since CSec picked him up. He was a minor crime boss or something."

"I have a copy of his personal database," Kara said. Emily perked up at that, leaning into the camera. "There's enough information in it to make your career, and I'll let you have it. In exchange, you're going to interview me."

The young journalist leaned back, biting at her lip again as she continued to stare into the display. "I'd agree to that without the bribe, Commander, so there must be a catch."

"I have something important to say. The Alliance would prefer that no one hears it—like my acceptance speech."

Emily shook her head, her gaze falling. Her reporting on the latest New Texas raid had received a harshly negative response, particularly from the 'defense analysts' who plagued the major networks, and probably an inbox full of death threats. "I can't help you. I'm sorry."

Kara sighed, looking down at her hands. Her hope was to create a widely circulated counter to the Alliance's expected propaganda campaign, and although she could easily find someone else to do the interview, none of them had access to a platform with the ANN's reach. She wasn't prepared to give up on the chance. "You have a choice, Emily," she said, not looking up. "You can go back to your desk, and write the stories they want to hear. It's easy, and it pays well. You might even come to believe what you say. Or you can take a chance, and keep trying to uncover the truth."

"And you can help me with that?" the woman asked, raising a thin eyebrow. "That's not pretentious."

Smiling, Kara raised her head. "Come and find out, or I'll just have to find someone who _is_ willing to interview the first human Spectre."

"Okay, okay, you've made your case," Emily agreed. "Where do you want to meet?"

* * *

"So, here I am," Emily said, shifting her pack uncomfortably. She had changed clothes since they had spoken over the comm, and gone through makeup, as well, now wearing a dark grey jacket over a shirt that emphasized her cleavage, and a short skirt. The overall effect was common among female reporters, a confident-but-sexy look that Kara simply didn't care for.

Kara had sent Kaidan to escort the journalist through the security checkpoint that kept unwanted visitors from wandering the Alliance's docking section. They had arrived in silence, with the marine lieutenant looking more taciturn than usual. Frustrated by questions he couldn't answer, perhaps. "We can get started as soon as you're set up."

The young woman nodded, scanning the room as she set her pack on the nearest chair. "Commander, can we get some sort of backdrop on those holoprojectors?" she asked, pointing at the rear wall. "Also, I really think you should be in uniform."

"I'm fine as I am," Kara replied, sitting at the console. The computer had several images of the _Normandy_ in space, taken during the ship's test flights, and she chose the one with the best lighting, and a background of stars.

"That'll be great," Emily said, as Kara turned around. Two camera drones were already in the air, awaiting orders with their recording lights off.

Kara let the journalist clip a microphone to her shirt, and guide her to a chair.

"Ready?" Kara nodded, and Emily activated the drone's VI operator. "Hello. I'm Emily Wong, and I'm here in the briefing room of the _SSV Normandy_ with Commander Kara Shepard, Alliance marine and heroine of Elysium, now a Council Spectre. Commander-"

"It's just Kara, Emily. I've resigned my commission," Kara interjected.

"Why, Comm-Kara?"

Kara smiled, and waited a few seconds for the camera to focus on her properly. "The Council and the Alliance share some interests, but they are still competing organizations. I cannot honestly pledge loyalty to both. I also wanted to divorce myself from the Alliance's attempts to gain power. I did not accept the Council's offer to advance human interests, or the Alliance."

"Why did you accept Spectre status, then?"

"To end a specific threat. Once that is accomplished, I intend to stand down."

"What threat?"

Kara had already considered her response carefully. Most would council secrecy out of reflex, but instinct and reason both told her that Saren already knew, so she told the truth, leaving out only the references to the Conduit and the Reapers.

"I've requested that the _Normandy_ be transferred to my command," she continued, "but the Alliance has refused. The interests of humanity lie, it seems, in contrast to those of the Council, and the Alliance is unwilling to make so small a sacrifice as a single frigate."

She leaned forward, into the camera. "I intend to take it anyway."

Emily's eyes widened. "You're going to-"

"Yes," Kara affirmed.

From the sharp edge to her voice, Kara guessed that the young journalist was keenly aware that, having foreknowledge of a crime, she was obliged to report it, or be considered an accessory. To what authority did one make such a report? Or was such a thing within the authority of a Spectre? Kara doubted that Emily knew.

"I have urgent need of a ship with the _Normandy_'s capabilities, and the Council requires that members provide all necessary assistance to its Spectres. Ambassador Udina demanded action from the Council after Saren's attack on Eden Prime; he demanded that they deploy their ships and crews to defend our colonies. I ask only one ship, and its crew, for the same purpose."

"To defend humanity?"

"To defend humans," Kara corrected, "and aliens. Anyone who is under threat."

Emily sat quietly, pondering her next question. She appeared to have recovered from her surprise, though Kara wondered if she had quite decided what to do. "You seem to have some issues with the Alliance, and maybe humanity itself. Could you elaborate?"

Kara smiled. She'd been hoping that the young journalist would ask that. "My problem is with the Alliance and its policies, and it represents—and influences the culture of—humanity. You wrote recently about our fleet deployment in the Attican Traverse, where colonies are deliberately left vulnerable to raiders, many of whom are also human. They took some corporate deal to colonize a border world, with grand promises of a better life, but they end up so far in debt that they can barely survive. They can't get help from the government, which is controlled by the same corporations that own their debts. I wouldn't accept that kind of life."

"I thought the raiders were mostly batarian?"

"Not according to the statistics," Kara sighed. "The threat from the batarian hegemony has been greatly exaggerated as well, but that's a difficult subject. To simplify it, Alliance officials want us to have an enemy, and so they've played up the rival they think is vulnerable."

It wasn't just a difficult subject, as Emily's uncomfortable nodding proved. "What does it feel like to be the first human Spectre?"

Kara suppressed an irritated scowl at the journalist's timid change of topic, using an idiotic question which invited self-adulation. She simply refused to speak any foolishness about honor and responsibility, but anger was not appropriate either. It felt like another burden she didn't want; another excuse to turn her life into a movie, with plenty of quiet, attractive men helping her to make the right decisions from the background. It felt like another step on the road to hell. "Much the same as not," she replied, with a faint smile. It was sufficiently vague, she hoped, to not allow for positive interpretation.

It was only a faint hope, but it took Emily by surprise. "You don't want to be a Spectre?" she blurted out; it was perfect, though not for her.

"No. Show me someone who wishes to be a hero, and I'll show you a fool; I've been both. What I want is a quiet life; did you know I play the violin? There are Quarian composers whose works far surpass Mozart or Beethoven; turian epics that put Gilgamesh and Beowulf to shame; asari poets whose verse can stir the heart more potently than all the sonnets of Shakespeare. I'd like more time to enjoy them.

"However, I was reminded recently that I'm not the type to set aside burdens. So I do what I must, but I want to make it clear," Kara continued, leaning forward and staring directly into the camera. "I don't represent humanity, or Earth, and certainly not the Alliance. I'm not going to be your standard-bearer, or your heroine."

Emily had gone pale, probably contemplating her career, or its swift end. "Kara Shepard, former Alliance officer, and now a Council Spectre. Thank you, Kara."

Kara merely smiled and nodded. Emily shut down the drones, which continued to hover, waiting to be collected.

Silence fell comfortably over the room. Relieved though she was to have the interview done with, Kara hardly felt any more relaxed. It was nearly time for her announcement, and after that… she didn't expect things to get easier.

* * *

_Note: Well, I made some more changes to the inside of the _Normandy_, brought on by an attempt to figure out just how things were supposed to fit inside a hull of that shape(with a corrected size). Mainly, I shifted the lift to the side, as putting it in the center interfered with the primary mass accelerator cannon, which runs between the crew and cargo decks, ____and removed the starboard stairway_. The rest of the changes are carried over, and mostly involve finding places for things that weren't in the game. Like enough sleeping space, and washrooms.  


_If things keep going as they are, this may end up being a longer project that I first expected, in both words and time. I'm about fifteen thousand up from the original. Please leave a review and tell me what you think, for or against._


	6. Departure

CHAPTER SIX  
_Departure_

The clock read sixteen hundred, ship time. Kara left the briefing room and took the captain's station, overlooking the tactical display. Aside from herself, there were four Alliance personnel on the deck, and Garrus, standing next to the intersection of the round CIC and the ship's bridge, which extended forward towards the helm. Wrex was on the cargo deck, standing guard over the armory. Sayuri was probably in the mess, with most of the crew, halfway through a story. Everything was as ready as she could make it.

She took a moment to catch Garrus' eye, and returned his brief nod. Then she drew a final breath, and activated the intercom. "All hands, this Kara Shepard. By now, most of you have heard that I've been appointed Spectre by the Citadel Council, and assigned to track down their former agent, Saren Arterius. I accepted this duty with great reluctance. I never desired the authority that comes with being a Spectre, but I will pursue this task with all my skill, and with your help, I will succeed.

"I do need your help. I cannot even begin my search without a ship, and the stealth and speed of the _Normandy_ make it ideal. I requested that it be transferred to my command, but the Alliance refused; it was they who demanded a human Spectre, and now they reject her.

"The ruling elite of the Alliance is more concerned with politics and their own power than with serving humanity, and I refused to play their games. I am not willing to use a Spectre's privilege to benefit the Alliance at the expense of alien life. I will not serve anyone who puts their narrow self-interest above the good of the entire galaxy. Therefore, as an agent of the Council, I have resigned my commission as officer of the Alliance Navy.

"I cannot, in good conscience, accept their decision, as it would mean abandoning a task I pledged to complete. As an associate member of the Citadel Council, the Systems Alliance is obligated to lend all necessary aid to a Council Spectre in pursuit of her duty, so I am taking command of the _Normandy_.

"I ask for your help, in this. Join me. I will not compel you to join me in this, but while you consider your options, ask yourself why you joined the Alliance Navy. Was it to further the goals of an elite that lies you into wars, or to protect your friends and families. I'm offering you a chance to do that, and more; to make a difference.

"Those of you who wish to disembark, assemble on the bridge in one hour. Shepard out."

Kara switched off the intercom, and stepped down. It all felt rather weak; no rousing calls to patriotism or duty, no essays into the nobility of sacrifice, or the glories of war. She had contemplated giving such a speech, but it was too hollow for her to manage. She didn't care for speeches, anyway. She preferred conversation.

That was what waited for her below. At least, she though, as she headed for the stairs, she had brought up some interesting points for discussion. Or condemnation.

"Gods, Kapoor, it's like you haven't heard a word I've said. Yeah, so Kara'd be the first one to tell you not to blindly trust your CO," Sayuri was saying as she came down the stairs into the mess, "but you're dumber than you look if you think she's just after power."

"That's so fucking naïve," the crewman snapped. "Of course she's after power. Everyone is, but I guess you've been to busy trying to get your head between her thighs to notice."

Sayuri flushed, darkly with anger, not embarrassment. She was as heterosexual as any woman Kara had met, but no bigot. Kaidan, sitting nearby and listening to the conversation, spoke up before she collected herself. "Hey, why don't we all ease up on the insults, and try to stick to relevant points."

"Good advice," Kara agreed. It was the first anyone noticed her, but she had been standing in the shadows. Her appearance ended every conversation in the room, crowded as it was with most of the ship's compliment of thirty-nine personnel and marines.

Sayuri stood, gesturing that Kara should take her seat. She wore a pistol on her hip. "Not much of a speech," she whispered, as they passed each other, and she took up a watchful position near the stairway.

"So, you have relevant points you want to raise?" Kara asked, watching the lieutenant while taking Sayuri's empty seat.

He shrugged, uncertainly. Not knowing how she would respond to what he had to say, perhaps. "What the hell were you thinking, Commander," he asked, at length. "Ma'am… Sir."

"Kara," she suggested, smiling. Hadn't she asked the same question, herself? "Are you questioning my sanity in general, or were you wondering about something specific?"

Both, she guessed, judging from his half-smile. "You're asking a lot," he continued, softly. Fortunately, the attention of the entire room was focused on them, though they may have had trouble hearing. "Our careers, maybe our futures. I've no desire to spend the rest of my life an exile."

She found it an encouraging statement. Self-interest was a basic, honest objection, more so than concern for duty to the state. "I won't make any promises I can't keep, Kaidan. Maybe they'll claim I led you astray; maybe they'll call you a traitor. I don't know. Whatever happens, I'll do my best to protect those who followed me."

She feared it was still an empty promise, as the Alliance would demand what she had already refused to give. He did not realize this, seeing only the truth of her intent and not the limits of her abilities. It was a common flaw. "Saren needs to be stopped, sir. If the Council thinks you're the one to do it, I'll go along, but this attitude of yours is only going to hurt us."

"I know," Kara replied softly. She let her eyes finish the sentence with her usual defiance. She wasn't going to let that stop her.

"Then the only question left is; why?"

It was the question, the only important one. Some, like Kapoor, believed she wanted power. It was up to her to correct that impression. She looked Kaidan in the eye. "Tell me about BAaT."

The question took him by surprise, but it faded quickly to a grim stoicism. "You know about that? How?"

"You weren't the only survivor," Kara said. The Biotic Acclimation and Temperance training program, abbreviated to BAaT, was the Alliance's first attempt at turning eezo-contaminated teenagers into trained biotics. Run by Conatix Industries, which purchased the old FTL research facility at Gargarin Station for the task, conditions there had been brutal. It had lasted from 2160 to '69, when it closed abruptly; the government had the entire program classified. The corporation folded soon after.

By the time Kara had gotten her first implant, just before her eleventh birthday, some of BAaT's early graduates were out and teaching biotics at other Alliance facilities, including Arcturus Station. The description her instructor had given them had been bad enough. Later, she learned that things had only gotten worse, as the program continued to produce any real successes.

"Survivors," Kaidan grunted. "Yeah. I was thirteen when they found me, and I remember that I didn't want to go. They didn't care, though—the Alliance had issued orders that all children with biotic potential could be seized for training. They'd seen what turian biotics could do in the First Contact War, and wanted that advantage."

Although the war had provided an excuse to push biotic research forward at a dangerous pace, it wasn't the first questionable experiment involving eezo and humans. Conatix had been responsible for several 'accidents', which conveniently exposed entire population centers to the element in the mid fifties.

"They brought us out to Gargarin Station, where the program had been running for about five years. We were totally isolated from our families and friends, and treated like raw recruits. At the time, humans didn't know anything about training biotics. The older students had never really learned to focus their abilities, so Conatix decided to hired some turian mercenaries to do the training.

"They arrived six months after I did, and they treated us like shit. One of them used to say that humanity was too useless to survive, and that if we didn't train harder the Hierarchy would come back and finish what it had started. A third of the kids broke, and died, in training accidents, or they just… gave up."

Kaidan was staring into his cup, as he finished. They were unpleasant memory, certainly, but the sorrow in his eyes suggested something more.

"Conatix did business almost exclusively with the Alliance government," Kara said. "Parliament authorized the removal of children from their parents, and refused to lift the communications blackout. Gargarin Station used to be military R&D, and they sold it to Conatix for a fraction of its worth. The Defense Committee sealed and classified the records. Must I go on?"

"So you do not trust the Alliance?" asked the ship's assistant medical officer, and chief field medic, Lieutenant Ehigha Eze, standing behind Alenko. "Why did you not resign years ago?"

A good question, to which Kara didn't really have an answer. She'd been comfortable, she supposed, and disruptive enough that she felt like she was doing some good. "Perhaps I was simply waiting for the right moment."

"I do not think that is now," the doctor replied. "The Alliance wanted a Spectre. They would not have interfered with the Council's orders, if you had kept your commission. Now they want to make an example of you."

"You think this is about appearances?" Kara inquired, raising an eyebrow. The dark-skinned man raised his hands, palms up. "Is it so hard to believe that I meant what I said?"

Ehigha folded his arms across his chest. "In my experience, very few people tell the truth when their own interests are concerned."

"The truth, Ehigha, is that you're right. The Alliance wanted a symbol, and I don't want it to be me. You're from Earth, right?"

He nodded shortly. "I grew up in Nigeria, on the west coast of Africa."

Kara's knowledge of Earth consisted mostly of history, and extended only mildly into geography. She could name the seven continents, and some of the major nation-states of the last thousand years, but not much beyond that. Imperial powers had exploited the people and resources of Africa for as far back as she recalled. The exploiters had changed from Europe and the US to India and China, but the results remained the same. "Then you know what I said about the Alliance is true."

"Yes," he admitted, "but it's your intentions I am not sure about."

"My _intent_ is to stop Saren, not to harm the Alliance."

"I guess it just comes down to trust," Ehigha said. He frowned, rubbing his hand across his mouth. "Okay. Chief Aoki says you're worth following, and I… I trust Doctor Chakwas' judgement. I am in."

Kara nodded in relief. Losing the medical staff wouldn't be as instantly devastating as the engineering crew, but it would raise the risk factor immensely. Marine officers were trained in first aid, but that was no substitute for a proper doctor, especially one with Chakwas' training in xeno-medicine.

Satisfied, at least for the moment, Ehigha moved to the back of the crowd, leaving space for those who still had their doubts. Kara checked her omnitool; forty minutes to go.

"Despite what Lieutenant Eke says, trusting you isn't the biggest issue," said Charles Pressly, the ship's chief navigation officer and third in command, pushing past a pair of marines, to fill the doctor's spot. "You are—or were—an Alliance officer. It's that you trust us less than your alien pals.

"Did you know she's got a krogan guarding the armory?" he continued, turning his attention to the crowd. "There's an armed turian on the command deck. She gave that quarian tramp free access to engineering. What's next, a contingent of batarian shock troops?"

"Pilgrim," Tali asserted, irritably. Kara hadn't noticed her arrive, but she was standing next to Sayuri, along with Adams and another junior engineer. "I'm a Pilgrim, not a tramp."

"She's not a spy, either, Charles," Adams added. "She's here to help the commander, and after what happened on Eden Prime, I wouldn't be so quick to turn her or any of the others away. Tali'Zorah is the one who got us evidence that Saren was behind the attack, and the turian, Garrus helped rescue her. It seems to me like they're on our side."

"That's it?" Pressly asked. "Just 'I like her,' and we're all expected to go along?"

That argument sounded as though it lead to throwing insults. "Commander," Kara said, interrupting them before it could continue, "I intend to assemble the best team I can, and I'm not going to discriminate based on species. If you can't work with them, you should go."

The navigation officer sighed. "You can't expect me to just walk away and let you take the ship."

"No," Kara agreed, letting her gaze move along the row of men and women that sat opposite her, and the others that stood behind them, meeting the gaze of each in turn. She knew their names, and recognized their faces, but hadn't spoken with most of them. They had no reason to trust her, aside from the commander's pins that adorned her discarded uniform. "That's why Wrex is guarding the armory. This isn't a mutiny, and it isn't up for discussion. I am taking this ship. Your choice is to stay, or go."

Pressly growled angrily, his face red, but there was little he could do. "I'll go," he said, with a dramatic shrug, pushing through the crowd on his way to the stairs. There were twenty minutes left, according to her omnitool, but she saw no point in arguing the decision.

Once he was gone, Kara didn't wait for anyone to take his place. "If anyone wants to talk to me in private," she announced, "I'll be in my cabin."

* * *

Kara sealed the airlock herself, sighing in irritation. She had lost thirteen personnel, just over half the crew, and seven marines. At least they had not attempted to organize any resistance, and forced her to respond in kind. Wrex's imposing presence on the command deck, fully armored and clutching his assault rifle, may have helped with that.

Turning to the nearest station, she activated the intercom. "All hands, this is Shepard. Prepare for departure." Best to be gone immediately, before the Alliance could muster resistance. They would already know what she had done, and their response would be quick in coming. "Garrus, get those docking clamps released. Moreau, you ready?"

"Ready to fly, cap'n," the pilot joked, turning in his seat.

Kara held back a sigh. It was easier to let the title pass unchecked. He was young and cocky, but also one of the best light warship pilots of his generation. Whatever doubts he faced internally, he had declared his side with a joke; _as long as I get to fly_. Soon, she hoped. "Garrus?"

"The _Normandy_'s port systems access has been locked down. I'm attempting to send the release command through my CSec account. It'll take a few minutes," the turian growled from his seat at the forward console.

Kara brushed her fingers nervously through her hair. Everyone moment of delay was one more in which the Alliance could organize to stop them. It would not take long to send a squad of marines with cutting gear to try and retake the ship. At the same time, the Alliance's warships could move to blockade the local mass relays, which the Council's Citadel Fleet would not take kindly to. The first she could handle, but she had no desire to be the cause of an incident between the allied fleets.

"Captain, we've got company," declared Ensign Brynja Ásdísdóttir. She had been the second watch operations officer, previously, and a recent Academy graduate. Top of her class, brilliant, and hard-working, her type normally had the heads too filled with notions like duty and honor for much in the way of independent though. Yet, here she was.

Kara leaned over the young woman's shoulder, to study her display. Sixteen marines, in full battle gear, had formed up on the dock, just outside the airlock. One of them had a cutting torch. "They'll try and hack the controls first, Brynja," she said. "Hold them off as long as you can, but let them through the outer door before they start cutting."

"Yes, sir," Brynja said weakly. Given her age, and the tenseness of the situation, her self-doubt was understandable.

"You can do this," Kara said softly.

Brynja turned her head, determination fighting with fear behind her cool blue eyes. Silver hair, worn just long enough to be tied back, framed her narrow face. Her eyes darted away, shyly, and back again.

Laying her hand on the blond woman's shoulder, Kara smiled confidently. She had no choice but to trust the young officer's intentions.

Brynja's lips twitched in response, and she nodded slightly, then turned her attention back to the console.

Kara had considered the possibility that not everyone who stayed behind did so honestly, and might make plans to undermine her mission. Right now, as she turned towards Garrus, Brynja had the perfect opportunity to simply open the airlock, and allow the Alliance back in.

"We're running out of time, Garrus."

"They changed the encryption on their docking protocols," the turian grumbled. "I can't bypass it."

"Let me try," said Tali, who had been following Kara about since they left the mess. There hadn't been much for her to do, since the talking stopped, though she had—rather charmingly—attempted to match Wrex's intimidation value.

The turian vacated his chair. "Sure," he agreed, as the quarian took his place.

Kara leaned over the nearest console, and switched the intercom on again. "Wrex, you'd better get back up here. Bring my pistol."

She surprised even herself, there. She had assumed, consciously at least, that if the marines breached the ship she would let them take it without a fight. Likely the Council would decline to support her—they had not pre-approved her commandeering the _Normandy_—and she would spend the rest of her life in a cell. Did she really intend otherwise, endangering not only herself, but her crew?

"Captain!" Brynja cried, her soft voice sharp with panic. "They're about to break through!"

"Hey, stay calm," Kara told her, wishing she could take the same advice. Instead, she struggled to keep her thoughts focused on what needed to be done. She pulled open the airlock's access panel, and threw the manual lock. The marine would have to cut through the inner door, but it wouldn't take them long. "Tali…"

"I'm in, Kara," the quarian said excitedly. "I'm releasing the clamps… done!"

"Get us out of here, Moreau."

"Aye, sir," he muttered; quiet as it was, she could hear the relief in his voice. They had all taken a risk, and to fail even before escaping the Citadel would have been embarrassing. Now, at least, they could say they'd made a go of it.

The ship backed quickly away from the docking ring. As they turned, she could see an armored figure dangling over the edge of the platform, the other marines attempting to pull them up. In the low gravity, it was a relatively easy task.

Once they were clear of the Citadel, Kara made her way down the deck to the tactical display. The _Normandy_'s thermal imaging systems were sensitive enough to detect the heat emissions from a ship's hull at extreme range, though the gasses of the Serpent Nebula reduced that by three-quarters. It was still far enough to see the cluster of ships, hanging about near the relay she'd hoped to use. From the size and shape, it was a combat group, a heavy cruiser and a half dozen escorts, one of several that the Alliance contributed to the Citadel Fleet, and an opposing turian patrol.

There were five relays in local space, and only two would take them in the direction of the Attican Traverse, and their first objective. She had chosen the primary relay, which would take them faster and farther, and though it was the more obvious choice, she had to assume that a fleet waited at the secondary relay as well.

"Bynja, activate the stealth systems," she ordered, over the intercom. Ordinarily, they would have been close enough for tracking on the visible spectrum, rendering the ship's thermal sinks useless, but she hoped the nebula would screen them, and allow them to disappear.

"Stealth systems active," Brynja reported. "External hull temperature is falling."

If all went well, they would be through the relay before the fleet could relocate them. If not, they would have to rely on speed and Council protection to escape. Was the Alliance really willing to risk a fight with a turian fleet in order to stop her?

"Captain," Garrus said, his mandibles closed in a tight frown. He had followed her back, and taken up the first officer's post. "I don't like the chatter I'm hearing. Too much tension."

That was troubling, certainly, but there was nothing she could do about it, except remove herself from the field.

"Wait—there are orders coming in from the flagship. Any ship that does not immediately return to its station will be subject to disciplinary action. Any ship that opens fire will be ejected from the Citadel Fleet."

There were seven species that contributed ships to the defense of Citadel space, some of which shared historical grievances. Harsh measures were sometimes necessary to maintain discipline, and prevent any minor incidents from escalating. This was just the sort of decision that might come from the fleet's asari admiral, without any intervention from the Council.

"The human captain has agreed to stand down," Garrus reported, his mandibles loosening slightly. "The turian fleet is turning off."

"Relay in five hundred kilometers," Moreau reported from the helm. "Initiating linkup."

If all went well, they would be gone in fifteen seconds, accelerated across the galaxy to speeds of over four hundred light years per hour, until they emerged from the exit-relay in about a day. It would leave then in salarian space, safe from interception by more Alliance ships.

"Hitting the relay in five… four… three… two… one…"

Kara breathed a sigh of relief, as they accelerated forward, hundreds of light-years from the Citadel in an instant. The change from normal speeds to extreme FTL was barely noticeable, protected by the powerful mass effect fields that the such speeds possible. "Garrus, I'm putting you in command," she said, stepping down from her post. "I'll have third watch drawn up and ready in four hours."

"Of course, Shepard," the turian nodded.

Kara brushed her hair back, as she headed below deck. Duty officer wasn't the only post she worried about filling. Moreau was the only qualified pilot she had left, and she was short on operations and tactical specialists. She would have to see if anyone could be borrowed from Engineering, or even the remaining marine contingent. That was, she reminded herself, how she had first taken up an XO's duties.

* * *

_AN: I don't like Kara's speech, which is as good an explanation as any for why you're getting a combined chapter. Maybe it's just me, though. I can't imagine her going on for half an hour or anything, and it does say what it should._

_As for the rest, well, surely you have your own opinion by now. I mostly added some contrary opinion, in the mess, and someone told me that I didn't go on about BAaT enough, so there's that, too. Added more Tali._

_As always, the management encourages your comments._


End file.
